An Eye For An Eye
by ErisandDysnomia
Summary: Hospital, psych-ward philospher, ex artist, coroners, nephews, pink haired angels, british bastards, bullets and blood. of course the blood. just another fuckin day for Connor and Murphy. Connor/OC Murphy/OC  Title changed to what I actually wanted!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: so hi! I wrote this a while ago for quizilla, but I've revamped and reamped it for here! So I hope you enjoy it :DD **

**Disclaimer: I so do not own Connor, Murphy, Smecker or any of the other familar faces you might see in here. I also do not own "Too young (to feel this damn old)" by Garth Brooks :]**

Chapter 1: Smokes, Shots and Shame

*Blaine*

_hospitals bore me, so why do i subject myself, and end up practically gettin my own permanent room? _I pondered to myself one particularly late night. I washed the soap off her hands, and watched it swirl around the drain. Man, I was tired of being tired. Being stuck in the hospital make me more tired then usual. Sighing, I poked the bags under my brown eyes. I was quite plain, in my opinion. My pin straight brown hair, was cut in a style that my stepfather had distastefully called "scene". Whatever, I dug it. pulling my red, black and white flannel sleeves down, I left the bathroom. _What's that song my dad always used to sing? "I'm much too young to feel this damn old" _

Singing the Garth Brooks tune, I started the trek back to the waiting room, where the other kids who were in the same program as me hung out. our Friday nights marked the end of the treatment days, but since we weren't allowed to leave the hospital, we usually ended up sitting in the E.R. waiting room and watched.

Morbid, yeah. But it sure as hell beat "Everybody Loves Raymond" reruns.

I flopped down in an uncomfortable contortion of plastic that the hospital insisted were chairs and she eyed the rest of the group. The "Life Recovery" group. Or as the rest of the hospital calls us, the Kookoo kids. Because apparently, if you try to off yourself, then you're insane.

_Actually, there might be some truth to that_ I thought to myself as I turned my attention to the hustle and bustle of the E.R

"Call it" I said, looking at my group.

"four" Ted stated. Ted had been there the longest out of all of us. Shocking really, because he looked as normal as they come, blonde shaggy hair, football player. All around good guy.

All around good guy who'd put a bullet through his heart. Well, technically lung, he missed.

"Three," I threw out. "I'm feeling three."

"You're both fucked up, it's gonna be six" Jimmy scoffed. Jimmy was an addict, you name it, he's done it. Extreme in my book, seriously, how many people have actually done brown brown?

"two" Anna's quiet whisper entered the conversation. I rolled her eyes. Anna was a quiet, small blonde haired blue eyed ballerina, who came within inches of drinking herself to death.

"Anna it's always more then fuckin two" Jimmy informed her.

"So call me an optimist." she whispered. The boys cracked up, and I smiled.

"Ann if you were an optimist, ye wouldn't be here" jimmy smiled. Anna smiled shyly.

"No i suppose not." she looked at the ER "but I can hope that not six die. Seriously, Jimmy. Are you just wanting people to die?"

"someone around here will." jimmy answered. "Someone always dies" I bit my lip, not enjoying the shivers that Jimmy's words sent down my spine. Ted just stared at the ground, and Anna's lower lip quivered.

"we need a smoke and a half." Ted sighed. jimmy nodded. Anna jumped up with them. they looked at me, who shook my head with a smile.

"none for me thanks" I winked. "gotta keep this face pretty and the voice sexy. Got a huge career in phone sex lines to look foreword too." that got me a groan from the group.

"How are you always so up?" Jimmy shook his head. I shrugged.

"Because, I'm not supposed to be here." I smiled and they all just waved and walked towards the garden exit down the hall. The hospital had implemented the garden as a place for patients to relax, but it had quickly become the place to go when you needed a smoke.

I repositioned myself on the abstract thing that was E.R chairs and stared as medics and doctors rapid fire traded information about the people one the gurneys. They didn't even treat them like people, they just used numbers. That had always bothered me about this stupid place. Patient 589 needed a transfusion, patient 143 needed the paddles. Who knows who these people are?

Here I was, just turned 18 and was trapped in these antiseptic halls. For who knows how long, and I was sure that none of the nurse I'd seen every day for the last six months knew my name. I was psych patient 0012, and that was all I was ever going to be in this place, it seemed.

Not that I truly wanted to be known in the hospital, the place always seemed crude. It was a double standard. People came to hospitals because they wanted to get better. They connected healing and hospital in their head right? Well, it was like Jimmy had said, "someone around here will die"

_Stop depressing yourself Blaine, and go interact or something_ I mentally scolded myself and got to her feet and stretched, then sauntered slowly around the corner., trying to remember how bad talking to yourself was exactly.

"Oww!" Slipped out of my mouth as I was knocked onto my butt. What the hell? Did I run into a wall? Not like it was the first time. Looking down at my shirt, I saw that there was blood on it. "W-what?" I looked up at what I had run into.

Staggering back a couple steps from the impact, was a blondish man, who's shirt was soaked in blood, and there was blood on his jeans too. He was being supported by a darker haired man, who had a cut above his eye, and a bloody nose. I stared with my jaw dropped. The blonde guy looked like he was hopping in and out conciseness.

"Oh my God!" A nurse cried, noticing the two men, the darker haired one sighed.

"Can ye help us?" he gestured towards the other man.

I pulled herself off the floor to make way, as an onslaught of nurses and doctors took the blonde man with them. The dark haired man just watched as they took him, shell shock glazing his eyes. He looked like someone had just kicked his puppy.

"Excuse me, you need to fill this out" a nurse told him, handing him a clipboard and a pen. He looked at her like she was retarded. The nurse sighed. "We need is medical and insurance information."

"Aye, I know what the fucking papers are for" the man growled. I smiled behind my hand.

"Then fill them out" she scoffed and turned back towards the desk she was manning. The dark haired man sneered at her. He then looked down at the paper, shaking his head. Even from where I was, his shaking was visible.

I was torn, on the one hand, I wanted to apologize for running into him and the other guy, and kind of find out what had happened to them. They looked tore up.

On the other hand, there is an unspoken rule to any hospital. Other people's problems are just that, other people's. you were always supposed to mind your own business. Especially with super serious cases.

My inner struggle ended with compassion winning out, so being me, I sat down next to the shaking man, and took the pen and clipboard from him, uncapped the pen, and held it over the paper. The dark haired man looked at me like she was insane.

"Hi" I smiled.

"… 'Llo?" he answered. He pointed to the paper. "Uhh, what are ye…?"

"They have to be able to read it, and you're shaking. It would probably end up looking like chicken scratch." he sighed and ran his fingers though his hair. I noticed a tattoo on the side of his neck. Maybe he was in a gang? "So, unless you want that nurse to come back and yell at you again, you'd better get through this."

"But it's me brother's personal information there lass" he gave a ghost of a smile.

"Is he filthy rich?"

"What? No?"

"Then you don't have to worry about me stealing his identity or anything." I smiled. "besides, I feel bad for running into you two, so let me make it up for you." The man looked me over again.

"Awh, fuck that was you?" he asked, looking at me, then he went two shades paler.

"Yeah, I'm really, really sorry! I didn't look where I was going" I turned red. Being clumsy almost killed someone. I couldn't believe it.

Thank God my friends hadn't seen that.

"No need to apologize lass, t'wasn't much room 'round tha' corner anyways." he answered her, still staring at me. I followed his eyes to the blood and realized what made him look so sad. I popped the buttons off the flannel, and pulled it off, leaving me clad in a black tank top. I balled up the shirt and stuck it under the chair. The man gave another ghost smile.

"I'm Blaine, by the way" I told him, playing with the pen.

"Murphy" he gave me his. I nodded.

"Alright Murphy, let's do this stupid paperwork," I read the first question. "Patients last name?"

"MacManus" he answered. I groaned inwardly and tried to sound the name out, theh showed the name to Murphy for spellchecking. "ye fergot da A, right dere" he pointed where it went.

"Fudge" I hissed. "Middle name?"

"Da whole name?"

"no…they only want half of it"

"Bit of a smartass ain't ye. His middle name is Declan." he told her. I bit her lip again. Damn Irish names. Damn Irish spellings. I scribbled down what I thought was correct.

"First name?"

"Connor"

"It that -ER or -OR?" I asked, realizing that those were both hospital terms. _Oh irony, you suck_ . I looked at Murphy, who was just staring at me. "Alright, -OR it is." I sighed. "Okay, your brother's name, by far, has been harder to spell then a college entrance essay" he shrugged. I looked at the next box.

"Patient's birthday?"

"8/26/75" he answered. I wrote that down too, luckily, I couldn't misspell that.

"Medical history?" I looked up at Murphy. He looked like he was thinking hard, but then turns to me and says 'none'.

By the time I was done with those stupid papers, I actually felt sorry for the nurse who had to go through all of this shit. It was monotony at it's worst level. I gave Murphy back the clipboard and reached for my balled up shirt.

"So, hey, I think I'd better go catch up with my friends, hoping they haven't burned down the building or anything. So I'll see you later Murphy."

"Bye lass, thanks fer yer help"

"No problem" I smiled, and headed towards my room, not feeling all that chatty right now. That Murphy guy's eyes were glazed over in completely shock. Shock, that would sadly wear off sooner rather then later. And if anything is worse then the shock, it's the intensity of the first few moments without the shock. He was going to snap out of it at some point, at it was going to be hell.

As I reached my room, I pulled on some shorts, rubbed the makeup off my eyes, and crawling into bed. The last thing that echoed through my mind before my head shut down were Jimmy's words.

_"someone around here will." jimmy answered. "Someone always dies"_

**So hey, you should review :]**

**Because that would be, like better then a unicorn made out of frosting!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Here's chapter two! I hope they chapters aren't too long! If they are you should let me know, but anyways! Enjoy! And remember, never, ever piss off a nurse!**

**Dislcaimer: I don't own the Boondock Saints, or The Shining, but I have to admit, that would be one epic house party!**

**Chapter 2: Guilt, Grey's and God**

*Blaine*

"Blainey bear" anna's voice called me back from sleep. "wakey wakey!" I forced my eyes open and looked at the clock. 6:45 am. Fuck! I was late! Then i remembered what day it was.

"Awh fuck you anna! Saturdays are free days. You'd think youd know that." I growled. A mornin person, I am not. Anna kept goin though.

"Come one, I thought you could do some theropudic yoga with me!" she whined. I stuck one hand out from under my covers and held up the 'tall man' finger.

"Check out my theropudic finger" I hissed. Anna sighed and tossed her hands into the air, probably. I was still under the covers. I just know Anna. After she left, and I realized she had killed sleep for me, I sullenly pulled myself out of bed and got dressed, which included a nice black longsleeve, some skinny jeans and sandles. I put on enough make up to pass as normal for a girl, (and not the monster of the morning) and ran some product throught my flatironed hair. I willed my body towards the elavator, where I began to mentally prepare myself for the breakfast rush. Seven a.m. in this hospital is an uholy time. It marks the end of the night shift, and the start of the day shift...so you can imagine what kind of zoo the cafeteria is. Doctors who haven't slept in two days fighting bright eyed bushy tailed doctors over the last plate of lukewarm eggs and soggy toast.

That's what eight plus years of med. school gets you.

The cafeteria is perticularly hellish today. According to what idle gossip I could gather; some nusto had tried to rob a bar, wounded a bunch of people, then was taken out himself. All the doctors sat there in line and shared their bar robbery horror story. Which, was you know great and all but, all i wanted was some damn coffee! I was not in the mood for the Grey's Anatomy idle chit chat. I just needed some coffee. But by the time I get my damn coffee, all the sugar and creamer is gone...which means I have to go bum some off the nurses...which usually meant partaking in some sort of activity that slowly lowers your self esteem. Normally, the Kookoo Kids tried to stay out of the nurse's way but for some sugar and creamer, I was willing to work for it. I was heading to where ole betty was stationed (the only nurse with a soul that didn't thrive of the tears of the innocent), the ER, and froze. that sad Irish guy from last night was sleepin on the same chair I'd left him on, and judging from that angle, his neck was goin to give him hell. Ugh, I did not envy him. I wanted to keep walking, Other people's buisness is just that and all. For some reason, i didn't. instead i walked over to him and held my coffee near his face. his eyes opened almost instantly and he stared at me. He gave me that look that you give someone when you've totally forgotten their name and are just about to say 'oh hey...you'

"Paper work girl." I smiled. "Blaine"

"Aye dat's rght." he mumbled. Ha. Irish talk funny. He looked around the room for a second then he shot out of his chair. "Oh shit! I fell asleep!" He streched out his arms and I heard a series of poppin nosies and saw him wince. Awh, the poor Irish guy...I looked down at my hands and knew what the right thing to do was. I handded him my coffee. I hate being a good person.

"Calm down there Spazzatron" I told him. He accepted the coffee with a greatful look, but he ddn't look like he was goin to be calming down anytime soon.

"Who do i ask about my brother?" murphy asked, slippin his tumb into his mouth and chewed on his nail.

"Well, seeing as all the doctors are in the cafeteria...here come with me." I told him and he followed me to the nurses station. Score! Ole Betty was sitting at the computer. "Hey Betty, how're you today?"

"You're up early blaine" she commented. I rolled my eyes. Figures, the one day i get up before noon on a Saturday, I have to spend it trying to pump information out of a vetran nurse.

"Have you got any new on that gunshot vic from last night?" I smiled my best 'sugar, spice and everything nice' smile.

"Which one? We had almost ten admitted last night" she sighed.

"It's me brother, Connor Macmanus." murph spoke up. She raised an eyebrow at the tattooed on his hand. I stared at it too, i didn't recognize the language.

"Well, about an hour ago, he coded, but they managed to resuscitate him and he stablized but is still in surgery so you'll hear more once they complete that." She informed him. Before Murphy could even react, she was on her feet, staring at a pager. "Sorry kids. Gotta run!"

"What the fuck did that even mean?" murphy moaned as he began to pace around. I stared at the coffee in his hands.

"Means your brother's heart stopped, but they started it again and he's okay, but he's still in surgery."I told him, suddenly thankful that my mom watched all those TLC doctor shows. Murphy stopped dead in his tracks.

"It...fuckin stopped?" he asked, his face doing that thing where his skin would go paler then death.

"But it started back up again!"I tried invoking some positivity. He shook his head.

"Christ." he sighed. I couldn't tell if it was a prayer, or a curse. Maybe both. A multi-tasker. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "How much longer until I know something?" i shrugged.

"Depends how long it takes to fix up those three bullet holes." Hmmm...second thought, that probably wasn't helping.

"Fuck...i need ta smoke, and I need ta pray." he mumbled.

"In that order?"

"That's debatable, which is closer?" he asked me. I pointed to a door.

"That leads to the garden, but it's pretty much where the smokers go. And the hosptial-chapel is down the hall."

"Smoke first then." he said, brushing past me. I decided to follow him, not like there was much else to do. Besides, I was getting more and more curious about this Irish guy. As soon as we got outside, there was a smoke on his lip and a lighter in his hands.

"Little addicted there?" I asked. he shrugged, and I saw he had started shakin again, despite the nicotine's attempt to subdue him.

"More then i should be i'm sure."

"So Murphy, question."

"Ye gotta annouce when ye have a question then?"

"Don't counteract my question with one of your own."

"Alrigh' den lass. What's yer question?"

"You just did it again! And my question, is, what happend to you and your brother?" I looked at him, and saw he had gone a sick kinda pale color, I thought he might throw up.

"Wrong place, wrong time"

"Of course it was." I laughed. He shrugged.

"Why are ye here?" He asked. I mulled it over for a few minutes, wondering what to tell him, then I decided on the truth.

"Fair enough, I was in the wrong state of mind at the worst possible time"

"The fuck's that mean?" he looked at me. I could tell he was only half listening, but he didn't send me away, so he was probably greatful for the distraction.

"Means I 'attempted suicide' about six months back, and now I have to do a clinic here to get a clean bill o' sanity." I told him. his eyes shot to me.

"You fuckin with me?" he asked. I shook my head.

"In reality, it was a big misunderstanding, but parents don't ever listen." i told him. "I was tryin to give myself a little tattoo, and my parents came in and saw my wrist bleeding, so they jumped to their own conclusion. I'm honestly normal, I swear." Murphy was quiet for a second and I got a little worried.

"Ye aren't gonna like, go all Jack Torrance from da Shinin' on me are ye?" he asked. I looked up at him and saw that he had a smirk on his face. It was a nice change from the frown.

"Depends on how Tony's feeling today." I answered. Murphy gave a small laugh thing. I was pretty proud of myself. I made the manic depressed brother laugh. "Good decision. Laughter is good."

"Aye. But I don't fuckin feel like laughin. My fuckin brother's bein cut open like a fuckin slab of meat." He spat. His tone instantly somber. "I don't even know why I'm tellin ye all of dis." he mentioned, a confused look on his face, as if he'd just noticed I was here.

"Because you need a friend right now." I said simply. he looked at me again.

"Aye I suppose so. How old are ye girl?"

"Eighteen. how old are you?"

"Twenty seven"

"Ha, gettin old there." I teased. He rubbed his neck.

"Sure fuckin feels like it." He took a drag off his smoke and blew out a perfect smoke circle.

"Impressive. Ted's been tryin to do that for months." I smiled. Murphy shook his head.

"Years of practice." He dropped the smoke and put it out with the heel of his boot. I met his eyes, which were blue...weird! I thought that irish people were like, programmed to only have green eyes! But those were blue eyes, and they were full of sadness and fear, and guilt. "Come on lass, let's go pray for my brother"

"I don't really pray"

"well, yer about to fuckin start"

**So, since you're here and all, you should totally go ahead and review :]**

**Reviewing has been known to make my insides hatch rainbows!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: so i made this one a little longer, hope that chill wit all y'all out there! and i made my first attmept at Murphy POV, so if you could tell me how i did on that, i'd be really greatful! he's such a good character and i don't wanna fuck him up! and i also realized that i haven't mentioned what kind of story this is, so that's my bad. this is yet another Connor/OC and Murphy/OC deal, but that won't happen for a while, and i'm hoping to keep the action and angst at the top of the list. so that's all i have to say, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer!: i don't own the saints, or murphy's law...**

Chapter 3: Group, Guns and Guilt

*Blaine*

Doctor James leaned back in his chair, looking at the group of us. first me, then Anna, Tyler, jimmy, Ted, and Clara.

"So who has something they want to talk about?" He asked. Everyone shrugged. "...anyone?"

"How about the lack of rule enforcement here?" Clara ventured. we looked at her.

"What do you mean clara?" doc jay asked. she looked at me.

"Blaine has been skipping art therapy for three days now." doc looked at me.

"Blaine...is that true?" I sighed, trying to come up with something good on the spot.

"Well...it depends on how you look at it..." Ted smiled and shook his head. His eyes sent me a 'good luck with the bull shit' look. "I skipped art therapy, but the schedule says I have to be doing something therapeutic. and I was."

"Oh please! You weren't in any therapy class!" Clara whined. _Snitches get cut Clara…I'll remember that_

"No I was doing…independent therapy"

"And what is that blaine?" Doc jay asked, hiding a smile.

"I met a guy in the ER who's brother got shot, he needed a friend so I was the friend, and I skipped art therapy to go pray with him, or talk to him, or just sit with him. He needs someone right now, because his brother's all he got." I answered. "and knowing that you're helping someone is very therapeutic." The group was silent.

"That's not fair." clara said. Oyy. One of the Kookoo Kid rules is 'thou shall not judge thy fellow Kook' Clara made that difficult. She was a skinny little creature, refusing to eat until she had nearly almost wasted away. Sad as that was, she wasn't exactly the nicest of the Kooks.

"I think it's fair," Jimmy said slowly , coming to my rescue. "It's not like she's brooding in her room or something, she's helping someone who needs help. In other words, she preventing someone from ending up like us."

"Agreed" Tyler interjected. "and so what, it's helping her feel better. And Blaine can't draw for shit anyways."

"oh gee, thanks..." I smirked.

"oh come on Blaine, you know you can't draw. Not even close. It's like insult to art if they let you even try."

"I just love how nice you are Tyler. Always got something sweet to say."

"As nice as it is blaine, you still need to go to a therapy class" Doc jay told me. I groaned at the thought of being trapped in one of these rooms for two hours each day. Drawing….it made me shudder just thinking about it.

"Alright Doc, I'll continue to destroy the artistic world one sloppy panting at a time, if it makes you feel better" I half smiled, half sneered. Doc was cool and all, but he was still one of the people who had decided if I had to stay here or not.

And so far, he'd been making me stay.

"Hmmm we'll talk about that later." he assured me. I stifled another groan. I didn't want to talk about it later, there had to be like a six month plus thing or something…I means seriously! I'd spent half a year in this dump…and they were going to make me do art.

I felt like a kindergartner half the time, I was a fucking adult, I deserved the right to say if I belonged her or not. But nope. In this wing of the hospital, you lose rights pretty fast.

_Come now girl, think positive_ I reminded myself. I was alive, there was a plus. I wasn't hurt, hey another one.

And I wasn't in some hospital room right now, bent over in an orange plastic chair, waiting for my shot brother to walk up.

Oh yes, things could definitely be worse. And I feel like a bitch for thinking it, but hey, at least I wasn't in Murphy's shoes.

*Murphy POV*

I forced my eyes open and groaned. Sleeping in these damn hospital chairs were going to be the death of me. I sat up and looked at my brother, who was finally out of surgery, but still hadn't woken up, and according to the doctor, might not for a while. I grabbed his i.v'ed hand and squeezed.

"Morning Conn, ye gonna wake up today?" i asked him. the only response was the beeping of his heart monitor. I shrugged and pulled out a smoke, and put it behind my ear. "I'd hurry it up if I was ye, tis yer fucking turn ta buy the next pack" when I didn't receive a response, I stood up and stretched out my arms, which was immediately followed by several consecutive popping noises, and a rush of heat along my back.

It was fucking killing me.

I mean really, the hospital couldn't invest in a cushion for those things or anything? Fucking ridiculous. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked out the windows. It looked like our summer was coming to and end here in Boston, and September and the clouds were moving in.

"I'm gonna go grab a smoke Conn, I'll be right back then" I told him, and placed my rosary on his chest. When they'd taken him in for surgery, he'd been wearing it, but when he came out, it wasn't there. Blaine said that they usually placed all personal items in a bag that you got when you were discharged, so here's hoping that the hospital has it. I thought to myself as I made my way into the smoker garden from the first night.

Fuck it was cold out here. I moved up and down a few times, wishing I had grabbed my jacket before I came out here. However, the cold wasn't enough to convince me to go back into the damn room. I hated that fucking room. I hated the hospital, and the last four days had been hell. I hated how broken and weak my twin looked in that bed, and I hated that he had three holes in his body, and I had a cut above my eye.

"_ye don't always hafta fucking win ye know" I smirked at him from behind the wall I taking cover under. There drug deal hadn't gone right at all, the three men that were supposed to be here, turned out to be a few more._

_Like five times more. _

_Connor took a few more shots then hid behind some huge cargo boxes, he smirked back._

"_T'isn't my fault dat yer shot fall flat boyo! Just means I have da better aim!"_

"_Fuck that! Ye waste a half a fucking magazine on each guy I swear" I answered him and I carefully leaned around the corner of the wall and began shooting again. _

_Four, five, six more fell. _

_Only five more to go. _

_A bullet wizzed past my head and I swore, fuckin assholes. I raised my gun and took out two more, while Connor simultaneously did the same. We finally just had the one guy left. And a careful aimed shot to the arm insured that he would be weaponless. _

_His eyes were wide with fear when we approached him, and he tried to reason with us, to get us to let him go. _

"_Don't kill me please, I don't deserve this! Please!" Connor snorted. _

"_Ye sell meth ta fucking kids, and ye don't think ye deserve this?" he asked, the man, the kicked his knees so that he was kneeling before us. We took the stance that had become second nature to us and grabbed the rosaries from underneath the shirt._

"_And shepherds we shall be,_

_For thee my lord, for thee_

_Power hath descended forth from thy hands_

_That our feet, may swiftly carry out thy command_

_And we shall flow a river forth to thee_

_And teeming with souls shall it ever be_

_In nomine Patris, Et fili, Et espiritu scanti" we prayed in monotone, then we delivered the drug dealing mother fucker. _

_I sighed and felt the adrenaline shortage hit, it always took a minute after that, for me to become me again. It was probably a very mild, or very severe (depending on how you looked at it) case of split personality. There was Murph MacManus, then there was Saint Murphy. Not exactly the same people I suppose. _

"_Pennies man?" Connor asked, holding out his hand, I complied and dumped a handful in his outstretched palm. He surveyed the room. "How much you think we spent on these fuckers?"_

"_Total?" I asked, placing two on the eyes of the man nearest me. "How many we done in so far? 22? So…forty four cents there, den, we just did in fifteen, so dat's thirty. So we've spent almost seventy four cents on these guys?"_

"_Cheap crime"_

"_Nah man, money's fucking money. Why didn't we use something else?"_

"_what? What else would we have used?"_

"_Dunno, what about those chocolate coins aye?"_

"_Christ Murphy, you couldn't be anymore fucking retarded…when did the boatman change his fare from two pennies ta two fucking cheap pieces of candy." Connor was half laughing, half scolding me. I shrugged._

"_Candy's fucking candy, screw the price." I stood up from my last set of eyes and looked around. "So, what the hell up with there being five times more then there was supposed to?"_

"_Aye, I was wondering that meself" Connor shook his head. "Looks like we'll be having a talk wit Smecker soon then."_

"_Aye, pulling a fucking Papa Joe on us." I turned my head towards the door. "We ready?"_

"_Waiting on yer lazy ass" Connor answered and started walking with me. _

_It was when we were on our way out that I heard another gunshot. _

_It surprised the hell out of me, the last thing I fucking expected. I heard Connor moan, and saw him stagger as the bullet made contact with his leg. Before he went down, he pushed me down first, and I hit my head on the side of one of the boxes. I moaned and felt blood on my head. Fuck. I looked behind me and saw two more bullets rip through my brother. I rushed over to him and my eyes darted all over the area. There was no one here. I couldn't see anyone! _

_Connor moaned and I realized I didn't have fucking time to look, I had to do something. Had it been one shot, I might've been able to handle it back at our place, with the iron, but there were three, and there would be cops all over this fucking place any minute._

"_Fuck!" I hissed, and slowly lifted my brother off the ground. He leaned heavily on me and moaned again. He wouldn't be able to handle the iron, and how the hell was I supposed to know if a bullet hit something important? _

_We had to go to the fucking hospital. _

I shuttered and tried to brush the memory from my head, and instead turned my attention back to the smoke I'd been rolling around my fingers for the past few minutes. I put it between my lips and flicked my lighter.

The damn thing wouldn't spark, I spent two minutes trying to get the damn thing lit, only to have it go out again as soon as it touched the cigarette. I took a drag and found that the smoke had been lit, but my lighter was out of fucking fluid.

"Figures." I muttered to myself as I shoved the thing back into my pocket. Looks like I'd have to be getting a cheap one from the gift shop.

I stood there for a few more minutes, exhaling smoke, when I heard a rumble, and suddenly, it started to fucking rain…hard! I swore and tried to get out of the rain, but not before it had made my smoke a soaked, worthless mess. I spat the thing out and stepped on it.

_As Connor would say, yer having a fucking 'Murphy's law' day aintcha_. I thought to myself as I walked back into the hospital.

Everything bad that could possibly happen…will.

I could feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and I winced and fished it out. When I realized who the number belonged to, I fuckin cursed my law again. I pressed the talk button.

"'Llo?"

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

"Hey Smecker, nice to talk to you too"

"I'VE GOT 15 FUCKING DEAD BODIES, BLOOD AND AMMONIA, AND A THIRD GUN! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

"Christ man, we're at the fucking hospital, and if ye want me ta go inta full detail right outside of the pediatric ward, just fucking let me know!"

"YOUR ASS BETTER BE AT ST. TOMAS' IN ONE HOUR, OR I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" he growled into the phone, then hung up. I stared at the phone.

Yep, I was in trouble.

Fucking Murphy's law.

**here you are at the bottom of the page, and with that review button so close, drop a line, and i'll drop one back! everyone loves the little happy monsters that reviews give birth too!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: everyone! :D so this story will totally start picking up in the next chapter! :DD so enjoy this one, and if you can tell me what movie Blaine's watching, you totally get name the artist, who will be making an apperance very very soon ;]**

**Disclaimer: so, don't own anything BDS, or the aforementioned movie, but i'll bet i could hold one hell of a party if did!**

Chapter 4: Church, Chiding and Charlie Bronson

*Blaine*

_Go to art, hide in Murphy's room…go to art, hide in Murphy's room…go to art-yeah fuck art. Fuck the doctors. _I decided to myself as I took a left down the hall towards the dude's room. Anyways, Murphy had talked about needed to run an errand, and he didn't wanna leave Connor alone. Basically he needed me to coma-sit him.

Not the weirdest thing I've had proposed to me. Heh, that award goes to the drunk guy who came to the hospital on St. Patrick's day. Offered me a Russian senate for a blowjob.

Hell, I could've been fucking Czar Blaine. Fucking own that shit.

"Hey Murphy!" I smiled, walking into his room. Murphy was leaning against the wall, shaking, and clutching at his chest. I was immediately at his side. "Hey, Murphy! Hey! Are you okay?"

"A-aye lass." he managed to get out, choking on his words a little. I frowned.

"Are you sure about that?" I pressed. Murphy took a deep breath, and he seemed to calm down just enough to be semi-normal.

"Aye lass," he smiled shakily at me. "Just a wee bit fucking exhausted, ye know? Hospital's scare the fuck out of me."

_What a load of tripe_ I mentally growled, but didn't have anything to press the matter with.

"Alright, if you're sure. You still need to run that errand? I have time now to coma-sit if you want."

"Aye? Huh. Well, I still do, put don't ye have dat art therapy thing?"

"Uh…no? No I do not."

"Yer a real shit liar lass."

"Well? Do you want the truth, or do you want help?" I asked. He bit his lip, my words hitting some invisible nerve.

"Aye, I need the help" He finally answered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette and sticking it in his mouth.

"Where you going?"

"Church." He answered, flicking his lighter.

"Murphy! This is a hospital!"

"So? It isn't a smoker's room?"

"Does this look like a hotel room Murphy? Hospital's don't come with that option."

"They don't? Huh, well, I think that they should be fixing that." He mumbled, sticking the smoke behind his ear. I took a moment to size Murphy up. He was paler then I'd seen him so far, and he was vibrating slightly still, and he was breathing quick. And he looked a little breathless. I frowned.

"Yeah well, seeing as they're called _cancer sticks_ I can see why the hospital wouldn't really want them around, wouldn't you?"

"Obviously the fucker who made da rules around here wasn't a fuckin smoker." He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at his brother, his thumb slowly inching towards his mouth.

"Obviously." I nodded. "So, is like, church a everyday thing? Cuz like, I thought it was only Sunday you know? A weekend thing?"

"No, it pretty much never closes."

"Like wal mart?" I asked. Murphy stared at me for a while.

"Ye compare church…to a wal mart?"

"Same difference."

"Jesus Christ, I'll uh, I'll say a prayer for ye. Let God know that yer ignorance is being worked on." he muttered. I smiled.

"Gee, thanks Murphy."

"Just take care of Connor fer me?"

"Sure, but uhm…what do I do if he wakes up?" I asked, realizing that Connor waking up to some girl he's never, ever met before, might possibly alarm him.

"Well, dat's pretty easy." he answered me. "Ye go ahead and fuck with him." Murphy walked over and pressed a kiss against his brother's head, and when he walked passed me, he pressed one against my head as well. He smiled and left the room. "Be back in like an hour!"

"Bye Murphy" I smiled and he walked out. I sighed and plopped back down in the plastic chair/Murphy's bed. I grabbed the remote and started flipping though the channels.

I spent a lot of time around head doctor's. Hell, I'd been living under their microscope for the last six months, and I'd become pretty good at psycho-analyzing people. I'd pretty much had Doc Jay's book of mental diseases and abnormalities. To put it simply…Murphy was fucked up.

But if you want a professional sounding diagnosis, I would venture so far as too say, Acute Stress Disorder.

Not deadly, no. More of a minor annoyance.

He was like, a textbook case. He'd been dazed beyond belief, obviously not in full comprehension, but I had chalked that up to just normal shock.

But when I had walked in today, he was hardcore hyperventilating. That sucks major duck eggs. Over activity was also a symptom, and that boy never stopped moving. It just seemed likely.

ASD occurs after a really stressful event in a person's life, and having your brother shot to death in front of you counts as a stressful event in one person's life.

I looked over at Connor, he didn't look a thing like Murphy. Hell, it surprised me that they were related. I wouldn't have seen it otherwise.

"I probably shouldn't be getting attached." I told Connor. "Because I'm not going to be out of here in a long time. And while you won't be either, you'll still be gone before me. I don't know why I'm doing this. I've known your brother all of four days. It just seemed…I don't know, like the right thing to do you know?" Connor just laid there, my only answer was the beeping of the heart monitor.

_Well, what'd you expect Blaine? An answer_ I shook my head and turned my attention back towards the TV. I was unwilling to think about the inevitable anymore. It was depressing.

My eyes flicked to my flannel covered arms.

Yeah, the inevitable sucked.

*Murphy POV*

I entered the church, and crossed myself with the holy water. I felt the tension leave my body, this was the safe place, I reminded myself, nothing will get you here. I took a kneel in the pew and let my worries flow from my body with every bead on my rosary.

"Dia cad é do phlean anseo? nach bhfuil sé seo ach cuid fear as an tsráid. Is é seo mo dheartháir. i muinín tú le mo dheartháir, agus chuir tú air san ospidéal. i gá a fhios agam go bhfuil muid ag dul a bheith ceart go leor. i gá go mbeadh a fhios go mbeidh mo dheartháir a bheith ceart go leor. caithfidh tú a sheoladh chuige ar ais dom." I whispered into the silence of the church, the Gaelic taking me back to Ireland, back to my life before I became what I was. _God, what is your plan here, that wasn't just some man off the street. That was my brother, and you put him in the hospital. I need to know that we're going to be okay. I need to know my brother will be okay. You have to send him back to me. _

"Please" I finally whispered, shocked at how weak I sounded. I was on my knees begging.

_Oh, and God, can ye prevent another one of those fucking attacks? I couldn't breathe, I couldn't do anything. I froze. I can't have that happen again. I can't. _I crossed myself and sat in the pew, realizing Smecker hadn't shown up yet. I dragged myself down to where the Virgin Mary statue was and knelt down. I'd always had a thing about praying to the holy mother, it seemed the most effective way to get something done.

If Jesus feared his mother like me and Connor did, well, then it pretty apparent that he won't say no to her. Ever.

I got up and headed towards the prayer candles, and I pulled out my lighter.

_One for Connor, and that he comes out of this soon. And without any horrible lasting effects for this. One for Smecker, and the sacrifices that he's making for us. And one for Blaine, and whatever demon is hiding under her skin. _I squeezed my eyes shut, praying hard.

"You don't look so good Murphy." I heard Smecker's strange voice call me out of my prayer.

"Yeah? Well you spend four days in a fu-freakin hospital, watching people mess with your brother, and then I'll tell you how freaking pretty you look." I spat. Smecker raised an eyebrow.

"I see Connor hasn't gotten any better?" He asked. I gave a half hearted shrug. "How bad is it?"

"Three gun shot wounds. One to the shoulder, leg and chest. He's flat lined twice."

"Jesus. And what the hell happened?"

"Well, ye pulled a Papa Joe on us is what ye did."

"Excuse me?"

"Aye! That three person drug deal turned into 15 real fuc-freaking fast!"

"That's not possible."

"Trust me Smeck, I was there." I answered, rubbing my eyes. He shook his head.

"No, impossible! My informant was completely adamant that it was a five person drug deal at the most. He gave me this information like six hundred times. He was completely insistent on the number-" Smecker stopped mid sentence. I frowned.

"Yeah well, yer informant was a fuc-freaking liar! That sure wasn't less then five men in that freaking warehouse. We were completely caught off guard!"

"My informant is a liar…"

"Smecker what are ye goin off on?"

"My informant isn't a liar, he's aware"

"Look, I ain't slept in four days. If I wanted a fortune cookie, I'd get some freaking take out." I hissed. Really not in the mood for Smecker's dumb little games.

"No, dumb ass" Smecker rolled his eyes, and I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. "I mean, I think my informant might know more then he's sharing. Like maybe, either he, or the gang he's informing on has realized that every hit they tell him out, the Saints show up." he looked at me. "I do believe you're being set up Murphy."

"That can't be possible, how could they possibly see a correlation there?"

"Not all bad guys are stupid Murphy. Most of them are actually really smart. It's not a stretch. Hell, it was probably just a test to see if you showed up, and you did."

"No way, we killed all of them. T'was a sniper or something else. I couldn't see them. Bullets even came from different angles."

"Sounds to me, that someone was just testing the waters. And they probably won't be too happy to know that their plan failed." I rubbed my face.

"Which, a'course means-"

"-Means they'll be coming back to finish the job"

*Blaine POV*

"I mean, if we're not pioneers, what have we become? What do you call people who, when they're faced with a condition or fear, do nothing about it, they just run and hide?" The man on the TV spoke with conviction, and intensity. The movie was kinda interesting. It was super actiony.

"Civilized." came a rusty, cracked voice, that scared the shit out of me, and I feel out of my chair.

"Owww" I moaned and rubbed my elbow. I pulled myself off the ground and tried to see what had scared the hell out of me.

There was no one at the door, so I looked at the bed.

Ohhhh….so that's how you know they were brother's, they had the same eyes.

I was staring into Connor's right now.

"What?" I asked.

"Civilized." he repeated. "That's the answer to Kersey's question." he winced as he moved little.

"Oh, the movie."

"Aye," he swallowed. "Now, who da fuck are ye?"

"Oh! Shit that's right! I'm uh, I'm Blaine. I'm friends with your brother. He uh, he went to church." Connor stared at me.

"Fuck me, is Murphy robbing the fucking cradle?" I turned bright red.

"NO!" I answered, shocked at his suggestion.

"Murphy's done worse. When did he say that he'd be back."

"Well, he said he'd only be an hour, but that was an hour and a half ago…" Connor gave a small laugh.

"Aye, dat sounds like Murph. I'm Connor by the way"

"Yeah, I know" I smiled.

"Oh do ye?"

"Yeah, I kinda ran into when you guys came here."

"Oh yeah…when was dat exactly?"

"Uhhh….four? Yeah, four days ago."

"Shit" he rubbed his eyes. The boy looked exhausted, and his eyes were sad and guilty, just like Murphy's. I got up to turn the TV off, and I heard him chuckle.

"What do ye think yer doin lass? Ye don't turn shit like this off"

Murphy POV

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Oh, and fuck.

Aye, dat about covered it right there.

I sucked down the rest of my smoke, and blew out smoke rings, just to have something to do. I wasn't looking foreword to walking back up there, and being left to watch that death wish that was my brother, and no sleep. No fucking sleep.

I tossed my smoke and walked back upstairs, my head spinning from all the Smecker had told me. Someone knew, someone fucking _knew_ that we're getting information through Smecker. I couldn't fucking believe it.

That was the last thing we needed.

I waved to the night nurse, who blushed and looked down. I felt a smile creep over my face.

_Still got it. _I headed down the hall, and paused outside of Connor's room. Willing myself to go into the room.

"Wait….is that rope? Really?" I heard Blaine say. "Does he really have that?"

"Christ, what's yer point?" A voice answered her. My heart stopped dead in my chest.

No. Way.

"Well, I don't know, it just seemed a little, unnecessary I suppose. I don't see him using it."

"Oh he'll fuckin use it"

"Well yeah, a'course he's going to use it, it's in the script! I'm just saying in real life, you probably wouldn't use it" she answered. I pushed though the door. I needed proof. I needed to see it.

"Ye'd be surprised lass" Connor smiled from where he was laying. Blaine was sitting cross legged on my chair, staring at the TV. I couldn't believe it.

"Conn!" I cried. Blaine and Connor both looked at me.

"Well! Where da fuck were ye? I'm on me fuckin deathbed, and don't even get the privilege of waking up to yer ugly mug?" he smirked. "And ye leave me a Nazi babysitter. She wouldn't let me smoke."

"Oh my God, you can't smoke in here. Especially you. You're on like, four hundred drugs you know."

"Aye, but I need ta get this fuckin taste out of my mouth!" he retorted. I leaned against the wall, and felt relief, icy push through my veins. I took a deep breath, and tried to keep the burning in my eyes from spilling over.

Once I felt that I had control again, I dared to look back at the two bickering movie critics. Connor was still grumbling at the TV. But Blaine was staring at me, and my face turned red at being caught breaking down. Blaine just blinked at me, and turned her attention back to the movie.

_Thank ye God. Thank ye fer the both of them. _

**So remember, you tell me that movie, and you get a cookie, and to help me out with something, if you feel so inclined! :D so please review! they make my glowy circle super shiny!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: We're baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! and Blaine's getting bitchy, while the twins are getting stalked! Que es esto? so remember to review! it really does make my day, and i need to know how i did with connor's POV!**

**Disclaimer: i don't own the BDS, or connor, or murphy, or Rambo, or the Princess Bride...man, this is a weird chapter xD**

_Chapter 5: Twins, Tears, and Touchy Topics_

_*Connor POV*_

I groaned, and felt the headache that comes with being asleep for almost a week hit me behind the eyes. Bright lights, why were there always bright lights in the last place that they should be? I mean, it should be a fucking rule that there should only be dim lights in a hospital. That's logic almost.

I rubbed my eyes with my right hand, because my left one had a fucking needle in it. I forced my eyes open and glanced at it. Shuddering I cursed my fucking veins, that were practically invisible against my tan skin. Invisible. I scowled, this is one situation where being paler then death was a plus, lucky fucking Murphy.

Murphy! I thought and turned my head towards the window. Murphy was sleeping, finally, in a blasted looking chair, his head hanging to his left side, his stretched out, and the occasional twitch (Fucker can't sit still, not even when he's sleeping), and a cigarette dangling from his lip. A cheap looking lighter was in his right hand, with two cherries as a design on the side.

"Gay." I shook my head. My poor misguided brother. I tried to shift my body, and was greeted with a nauseating wave of pain. I groaned and fell back into the pillow. Moving wasn't in my cards yet it looked like. I pressed my right hand against my head, trying to remember what happened. I couldn't for the life of me, say what happened after Murphy had made some dumb shit crack about using chocolate coins rather then pennies.

Whatever it had been though, it had been fucking bad.

"Fuck" Murph whimpered from the chair where he was sleeping. I held my breath, please God, just let him sleep. I silently begged, realizing that I had no rosary to grasp, to make my prayer move that much faster. Apparently without my rosary, the prayer wasn't valid, because Murphy continued to whimper. "Please no" I hated it, my brother never, ever begged for anything. He never whimpered, he was never weak.

Murphy dreams in Gaelic, his head and thoughts are all in Gaelic, I know this because he'll sometimes answer my question in Gaelic and not even realize he's done it. Been that way since we were just kids in Ireland. Nightmares though, Murphy's nightmares are in English. I frowned deeper when I saw his semi relaxed face wince, and his hands twitch some more.

"Pain be damned." I growled, forcing my body up off the pillows. My ever cell protested against this movement, but I kept going. I swung my good leg over the side of the bed, then my bad one. "Fuck!" I groaned as the pain flared up my side. I stared at the bag the needle in my hand was connected to. What the fuck were those drugs for? Show? I slowly pushed myself off the bed.

My body was not cooperating, but I managed to get close enough to my brother, and I dropped to one knee in front of him, pain was flaring but as soon as I got close, it was forgotten. I had to take care of my brother.

"Please don't leave" Murphy whispered. I felt guilt flood through my veins.

"Murphy, wake up now Murphy." I ordered him, placing my hand on his forehead. He jerked away from my touch.

"Don't leave me alone." he murmured.

"Calma síos ceart go leor anois? Is gá duit a osclaíonn. éist liom dheartháir, múscail anois." I whispered. Calm down now alright? You need to wake up. Listen to me brother, wake up now. I hoped the Gaelic would draw him out of it, it usually worked. Mostly after Rocco had died, and Murphy woken up screaming for a week straight.

"The fuck?" Murphy slurred, deliriously looking around the room. I let out a relieved breath. Thank God. His eyes darted to me, then to my bed.

"What was it about Murphy?" I asked. He looked away.

"Nothin,"

"Awh, come on Murphy…"

"I said fucking nothing" he snarled. I realized I had struck a nerve. His face dropped malice. "Why the fuck are you out of bed?" he got off of his chair, and helped pull me back to my feet, then offered me something to lean on as I hobbled back towards the bed prison I was confined too. I got settled back in and eyed my brother. He looked tired as hell, with dark purple bags, and paler then death skin. He had a scab from a cut above his eye. I pointed to it.

"Hey, did tha' heal alright then?" he looked at me and shook his head.

"Ye get shot, three times, and yer worried about a fuckin cut?"

"Ye can't take too many more blow at da head Murphy, I'm worried that one day you're gonna end up getting hit upside the head, and end up in a helmet."

"Yer lucky I won't hit a fuckin cripple" he hissed, but I saw him laughing in his eyes. I leaned back, then I remembered something.

"Shit! Don't hospital's call da police wit a gunshot wound?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"Aye, but we got a nice detective by da name of Greenly, told him ye interrupted a pimp teachin some ho some respect, and he decided ta learn ya one" he smirked, lookin quite proud of himself. I rolled my eyes.

"He bought tha'?"

"Ya know, I think he did" Murphy snickered, pullin out a smoke, and sticking it behind his ear.

"Fucking eedjit. And what of what ye and Smecker talked of?" I stared at him pointedly. He slipped his finger into his mouth and avoided my gaze.

"Just wanted to find out what happened."

"And did he know why there were fucking fifteen men there?"

"…No"

"Christ Murphy, yer a fuckin terrible liar." I smirked. He matched my expression.

"How would ye know? I never fuckin lie to ya"

"Well, dat is da biggest pile a' bullshit I've ever met" I scoffed. He just smiled and messed with my hair. I swore and cuffed him upside his head.

"Ow! Fuck!" he laughed, and held his head. I cracked up laughing, and shook my head.

"Tis just one less time ye can get yer head beat now"

"Yeah, well fuck you" he shook his head and looked towards the door. "Ye hungry? I figure since ye been shot three times, ye don't need hospital food on top'a dat."

"Aye, I want a big fuckin greasy as hell burger." I told him.

"As ye wish" Murphy winked at me. I groaned.

"Oh shut it would ye, dat movie was terrible, Blaine never gets ta pick the movie. Ever again" I moaned. The lass had made me and Murphy sit thorough the Princess Bride.

Fuckin awful, really.

"Aye, Conn, whatever works for ye." Murphy started towards the door, his gay little lighter at the ready. At the last second, I grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. He cried out and stared at me, confused.

"I won't leave ye Murphy. I promise." I told him. He bit his lip.

"Ye can't promi-"

"I can. I fuckin promise. It's either all or nothing aye? Unless God wants us both, I ain't leavin ye." I answered him, conviction alone putting those words into stone. Murphy stopped biting his lip and smiled at me.

"Ye better fuckin not. I'll fuckin kill ye if ye try"

*Blaine POV*

"I already told you. my parents thought I tried to off myself. i didn't though" I repeated this statement for the umpteenth time since I've been in this stupid clinic.

"that's not something you accidentally do Blaine." Doctor Jay stared at me pointedly.

"Yeah well I did it. I'm accident prone"

"Joking this off won't make it go away you know"

"Well, nothing else seems to be making it go away. And I'm so done with this place Doc. You people aren't doing much to help. I'm fine."

"This place is for emotionally distressed teenagers, do you deny you were distressed."

"Were. Keyword word there, were. And no, I was not distressed, because to be distressed, would mean that there was something wrong. And there wasn't. If anything, it was those pills that you insisted were the solution to the depression issue. Those things made me lethargic, slow, and unhappy. Which is probably why my mom flipped out when she saw me giving myself the tattoo."

"Tattoo huh?" Doc Jay leaned over from his chair, and grabbed my hand, I tensed, but couldn't pull away. That would look suspicious. He gently pushed my long sleeve up my arm. The three jagged scars were puffed above the rest of my skin. He looked at me skeptically. "What were you trying to make?"

"Just shut up alright, you don't know me, you don't wear my chains" I snarled. He shook his head.

"And you don't tell anyone anything Blaine, you do realize that unless we believe you won't hurt yourself again. We can keep you as long as we want too."

"What? That's not fair!"

"We need to know that you won't hurt yourself Blaine!"

"I don't want to hurt myself! I don't feel like I'm worthless anymore! I'm fine!" I protested, then realized what I had just said.

Fuck me.

"Anymore Blaine?"

"You know what I mean, just I don't feel worthless. Serious." I mumbled, looking away. Doc Jay sighed, and looked at the clock. I felt my blood rush to my face, and had to hide my face.

"Well, uh, our time's up Blaine. I'll see you tomorrow." he told me. I hopped out of my chair, and rolled my sleeve back down, and rushed back into the hall.

I walked aimlessly through the halls of the hospital, tears streaming down my face.

Oh, God. I was insane. Completely and totally insane.

I was never going to get out of here. Ever. I was crying, in a hospital, because I had tried to kill myself.

I took my jagged, fucked up fingernails, and I had tried to rip out my veins.

"Fuck" I whimpered and shook my head. Crying wasn't going to change shit. I should just accept that. I took a deep breath, an realized I needed some cheering up.

Swiping at the tears in my eyes, I changed my course for the boy's room.

I needed someone to pick on.

*Connor POV*

I grumbled, staring at the TV. Murphy, that asshole, not only was he lying right to my face about what Smecker and he had talked about. But he had purposefully left the remote just out of my reach. I was stuck watching Rambo. I hated Rambo.

"Sup Gunshots McGee?" Blaine greeted as she sauntered into the room. My savior!

"Lass! Could ye hand me da remote?" I asked. She glanced at the TV.

"Not a Rambo fan?"

"Not in the slightest" I grumbled, she smiled and handed me the remote.

I was worried when I had first heard of her and Murphy's friendship. I had been convinced that he had been robbing the cradle. But the more I saw them react, the more I saw her place her trust in Murphy like a big brother, and the more he had taken to protecting her like a little sister. It was nice, she gave Murphy a challenge, a bit like Rocco.

Blaine sniffed, and rubbed under her eyes, which I noticed were shiny and puffy.

"Ye been cryin lass?"

"Nah." she shook her head.

"Aye, ye were, I can see it on yer face." I continued. "What's wrong, you miss art?"

"I hate art dude."

"Oh come one, you can't be that bad" I assured her. Blaine snorted, and pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me. I uncrumpled it. "Awh, what's got ye down lass? It's a cute T-Rex."

"It's a fucking butterfly…."

"Oh shit, aye, ye suck at art"

"Hasn't the morphine knocked you out yet?"

"Just woke up"

"Really, it's not a big deal Connor. Okay?" she smiled at me, and fucked up my hair like Murphy had earlier.

"Christ, I'm sick of dat!" I grumbled. Blaine just smiled at me.

"I do it because I care"

"Ye've known me for a week and a half."

"Two weeks, I count when you were knocked out. And so?" she trained her wide brown eyes on me. "Murphy needed a friend, and I needed something else to think about. It's just straight good luck that this turned into a nice friendship. I care about Murphy, and I care about you too." she gave me a wide smile and I returned it.

"Yer a good lass Blaine."

"I try" she smiled. "Oh! By the way, this for you?" she asked, and tossed me a small box, that was wrapped up with a bow. I stared at it.

"Oy, where'd you get that?"

"It was in the plastic bin outside your room, the thing that holds your chart. It was just sitting there. It doesn't have name, so is it yours or Murphy's?"

"Let's find out." I answered, and pulled the bow off.

Inside, there was a folded up piece of paper, and drawn on that piece of paper was a frowny face, with two large Xs for eyes.

And glued to those Xs were shiny pennies.

See you soon was written underneath.

**Creeps! Review and tell me who you think is being creepy! and remember, leading doctors say that reviews are actually keeping me alive on this journey! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Hey! we got a look at our bad guys! well, just a small look at the fella. but next chapter, we'll get even more of an outlook on them. and if you have any ideas, or a badguy thing, feel free to tell me, and this is really important, i need a quirk that like an artist would have. something really weird and kinda noticable. **

**Disclaimer: i don't own connor, muprhy, BDS or really anything else that seems remotely interesting in this :D**

*Connor*

My heart rate picked up as I reread the note in my hands.

See you soon

What the fuck did that mean? Someone knew? Oh shit, someone knew! Someone could find us, no, fuck! Someone had found us! Someone knew about me, and my brother, the saint thing.

"Whoa…that's some freaky stuff" Blaine mumbled from next to me, I jumped out of my skin, remembering that she was still next to me. "That's like crazy creepy. What's it mean?"

"Nothin'" I answered, trying to regain my composure. "Wrong number"

"No way Connor, they put it in your box, I mean, they saw the name on your chart…they had to know it was your room, what's it mean?"

"I don't know lass, seriously, it doesn't make sense"

"Yeah, but Connor-"

"Whoa! Lass, what happened te yer wrists?" I asked, changing the subject as fast as I could, t'was just dumb luck that her sleeve had been pushed up enough to reveal one fucking jagged scar. She recoiled as fast as she possibly could and took a few steps back.

Well, that wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting.

"Calm down lass, ye aren't in trouble…" I told her, she shook her head.

"Why's Blaine in trouble?" Murphy asked, walking into the room. He looked a little paler then he had when he left, but neither me or Blaine said anything.

"She got kicked out of art" I answered for her. She scowled.

"Kicked out? Christ lass, were ye dat bad?"

"Butterfly looked like a fucking T-Rex"

"You know what, I'm going to go do…anything else but talk to you guys…" she mumbled and shuffled towards the door. Murphy stared at her.

"What the fuck did ye do? Stab her with yer I.V." he stared at me angrily.

"Why the fuck would I waste my fucking morphine on her? And beside, I don't know what pissed her off, she just like, flipped out."

"Aye? We'll get to that, Connor, I think we have a problem" he whispered, I nodded.

"Aye, I'd fucking second that"

"What? What do ye mean?"

"Check this out" I tossed him the note. He tore it open and scanned it. I didn't know Murphy could get that fucking pale…

"Oh, shit"

"Ye ready ta tell me what ye and Smecker talked about?"

"Shit! Smecker's informant gave him some bad information. He thinks that someone might've figured out how we're getting information, and they set a trap. And I mean, we don't know how long they've known. And Smecker thinks if they find out we survived," he gestured with the note. "Which it would appear they did…they'll try to come back-"

"Ta finish the job" I finished his sentence. Oh shit.

"Aye, and they apparently know who we are" Murphy shook his head. I bit my lip, there was only one thing to do.

"We have ta get out of here, today"

"Are ye fucking retarded?" Murphy asked, incredulous "Ye can't fucking stand, much less break out of the hospital!"

"Aye, maybe not by ourselves, but I'll bet my left arm dat Blaine could get us out of here today."

"Conn…we can't get her involved." My brother whispered. "She could die."

"Fuck, yer right" I shook my head. I glanced out the window, which faced the smoker's garden. Usually, the place just taunted me all day, showing me a bunch of healthy people who were allowed to smoke, but I saw Blaine out there, talking to some blonde teenage boy. She looked sad, and was talking animatedly to him. "We can't risk her like dat"

"If ye want out man, I'll get ye out. I promise, but where would we go?"

"We have dat old place, aye? With da three rooms?"

"No water, or heat"

"they've fixed it by now, I'm sure. We have ta get out of here man."

"What do we do about Blaine?"

"Depends, do ye want ta say goodbye? Or we gonna just disappear at night?" I asked my brother, who wasn't looking at me anymore, but out the window.

His face went from sad to pissed.

*Blaine POV*

I sniffed and rubbed my eyes. It wasn't Connor's fault that he saw, but now I was worried that he had saw. Maybe I should just leave them be. That way, I wouldn't have to drag them down into my mess. We'd both be better off that way right?

So much safer.

I stood up and walked towards the door, but stopped at the entrance, and knelt down to pick up a cigarette butt. Dirty assholes, mucking up a garden for sick people. I picked it up, and noticed that the foggy sunlight was suddenly out of my line of sight.

"Uh, hi?" I said, as I turned around to face a mountain of a man. He was huge, with tan skin and a thick black hair. He looked a lot like Rafe, from Days of Our Lives. He stared at me. I awkwardly shuffled on my feet. "Sir? Do you need help?"

The brute suddenly shoved me against the wall, so hard I heart my back pop. I cried out and he covered my mouth. I stared at him with wide eyes. He just smirked, and whispered something in my ear that I couldn't understand and I bit my lip. I heard the undeniable sound of a switchblade, and I yelled for help, but my muffled cries only made him laugh. He stuck his hand down my shirt, and I screamed for real. He just shook his head, and then he was gone.

I sat in shock, my body shaking and my breaths coming in short gasps, and I realized that there was something in my shirt. I pulled it out, and saw that it was a note, and it was written in like Russian or something.

не открывать, пока вы не одни

I stared at the note. What? Why did he give this to me? I shakily stood up and righted myself against the wall.

"Blaine! Are ye alright?" Murphy cried, running towards me. I just stared at him. I looked to him, and handed him the note. He snatched it and scanned his eyes over the strange letters.

"Oh shit!"

"Wait, you understand that?"

"Aye," he looked around the garden, but the scary man was gone.

"You're bilingual?"

"More like, mega-lingual to be honest."

"Murphy?"

"Aye?"

"That note's not for me, is it?" I whispered. He sighed.

"No, lass. It's not."

"Murphy?"

"Aye?"

"What the hell did you do?" Murphy stiffened, then he pressed a kiss against my forehead.

"Go back inside, and stay there aye?" then he turned and left. I swallowed and grabbed his hand.

"Answers Murphy please, I need answers." he shook his head.

"I don't have any answers for ye." he insisted, but I didn't let go of his hand. He glared at me.

"Tell me Murphy!"

"I can't!"

"Murphy!"

"Look! I'm sorry! Just, go, back inside, and don't ye even think of leaving!"

"Murphy that's not fair!"

"Look Blaine, I have ta go talk to Connor alright? Just please go back inside!"

"Murphy!"

"Blaine, just fucking do what I say!" he growled. I winced, but didn't let go.

"Murphy, that man just stuck his hand down my shirt! And he threw me against the wall!"

"Look, Blaine, we're leaving." he whispered. I dropped my jaw.

"What?"

"We're leaving."

"You-you're-what?"

"Fucking. Leaving"

"Are you retarded?"

"Blaine-"

"Connor can't walk! He can't even stand you idiot! Do you know how much morphine he has in his system? He'll be in complete hell for months Murphy! And what, are you planning to babysit him for the next seven months? Do you not work?"

"No, I work…"

"So you're going to leave Connor in agony and alone?"

"Fuck" he rubbed his eyes and groaned. Had they really not thought this out at all?

"Look, I know there's not stopping you stubborn sons of bitches, but, rethink it. You guys have no idea what you're getting into. Or how hard it will be to sneak out of the hospital."

"Ye've done it though aye?"

"Yeah, when a energy drink just sounds too damn good, I sneak out and get it…but…" I looked at Murphy, who was staring at me with a sly look. "No, no way. Absolutely not. I'm completely against you doing this. Besides, if I got you out, they would totally not let me come back. I'd be homeless. I'm not doing that."

"Ye wouldn't be homeless lass, actually, we just became in need of a nurse…ye could stay with Connor? Ye could live with us?"

"Murphy…it's so dangerous…"

"We have ta leave. We can't afford the hospital anymore. We need to get away. And I do work, and Connor will need help. And tis better then living on da street." he offered. I stared at him, shaking my head.

"This will be hell."

"We know hell lass. Tis something we know very well."

"…Fine. Only because I'm too afraid to let you go by yourself. I don't like this."

"Aye! Yer a saint ye are lass! Okay, so give us until it gets dark. I have ta go er, liberate some morphine and Connor's rosary."

"Alright, okay." I shook my head, realizing I had just royally fucked myself. I knew theses guy what? Two weeks.

_Don't bullshit yourself Blaine, you know that you can trust them, hell you trust them more then you trust your own stepfather. This is the right thing to do. Connor could die if he gets left alone. _

"Thank ye Blaine." Murphy sighed, and pressed another kiss against my forehead.

"I still expect answers."

"Sorry lass, ye'll have ta earn it."

**so, here we are again, and i think you should totally review, because, you know, it really makes me like fliip a freaking monster cat! you know?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: Woooow this was a long one :D but it was super fun to write, and let me tell you, the tensions starting up in the next chapter, and a nice chuck of time meeting our bad guy! so enjoy, and remember, i still need a good quirk for the artist! message me or review if you have an idea!**

**Disclaimer: i don't own BDS, or Coors, or Cubans...those belong to...well more fourtunate people :D **

Chapter 7: Bustin it like Bronson, and British Bastards

*Blaine*

"Blaine, are you sure you want to do this?" Anna asked me as I packed the rest of my shit into the one duffle bag I brought here. I eyed her.

"I'm not…completely sure, but it's the right thing to do. Pretty sure it's like manslaughter if I let them walk out of here on their own."

"Well, uh, I mean, doesn't the sexy sexy one have a bullet hole in him?"

"Three actually…wait what?" I stared at Anna. She smiled slyly.

"The brown haired one's the sexy one, and the blonde one is the sexy sexy one." She winked. I rolled my eyes.

"They have names."

"Names don't matter."

"Yeah, well for posterity, Sexy one=Murphy, and Sexy Sexy One=Connor." I smiled and her and shoved my teddy bear in last, next to my iPod. Anna's bottom lip stuck out.

"But, what about getting better?" she whispered. I sighed and rubbed my hand over my wrists.

"I'm not getting better. Not here. I can feel myself getting worse."

"Well, you don't take your pills…"

"Awh come on Anna, normal people don't have to take pills to be normal, and I used to not have to. If I did it before, I can do it again."

"Self destructive behavior…"

"Damn straight." I mumbled and threw the bag over my shoulder. Anna shook her head.

"They'll have cops on your ass so fast!"

"Not even close, the last thing they'll do is let the public know that a hospital lost a mental patient" I smirked at her. "That would send Boston into a state of hysteria, the newspapers would be begging the Saints to kill me."

"That's not funny Blaine…" she bit her lip. "What about me? Or Ted, Jimmy, Tyler, we're a group Blaine, we all promised that'd we'd live through it. All of it."

"I'm not walking out that door to take my life, Stupid, I'm walking out that door to save one. They won't listen to reason, so the next best thing would be to make sure that the Sexy Sexy One doesn't die, dontcha think?"

"When did that become your responsibility?"

"Why not?"

"This is your life here Blaine…and you know the hospital will call your parents right?"

I'll be honest, that froze me. That was a mess I didn't want to get into. After what happened, me and my parents, or Mom and Stepdad, we weren't on the best of terms. I didn't want to break my mom's heart, really, that's the last thing I wanted to do. But, she did insist that I go to this stupid clinic. And besides, she sent me to a clinic across the fucking country. While I was freezing my ass of in Boston, she was kicking back in California. Probably doing whatever Ian wanted her to do.

"I'm 18, so legally, they can't do shit to stop me." I answered. Anna scoffed.

"I'm 19, and somehow, that hasn't stopped my parents from not letting me out of here. And I see why, I still need to be here. It's actually helping me."

"Helping you, really?"

"Yes, really!"

"So if I left a case of Coors Lite right there on the bed, you telling me you wouldn't start binging as soon as I turned my back?"

"Wow…"

"Anything but a no, is a yes"

"And you're less fucked up Blaine? What happens when your nails grow back out huh? What happens when those boys, who you haven't told _shit_ to I'm sure, accidentally leave a knife out. Or what happens when it's Monday, and you get stuck with the urge to rip our your own vein again-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" I cried, covering my ears with my hands, my entire body trembling. Anna just stared at me.

"Are you sure you want to do this Blaine?" She asked again, more malice in her voice then when she had first asked me. I gnashed my teeth together and had to resist the urge to kill her. I held up my therapeutic finger one last time.

"I'm fucking sure I want to. Anything's better then becoming like you."

"Like me?"

"Fucking willing to attack me at my weakest point, rather then admit that you would fucking swan dive off the wagon." I shook my head and turned towards the door. Anna growled.

"And when they find your body, do you want me to speak at your funeral?"

"Actually, I hope you do. Let people know who I really was."

Fuck her, fuck this stupid place.

I headed towards the stairs I had told the boys to meet me at, my head swimming. I can't believe she had dropped so low. I was shocked, Anna was the sweetest person I'd ever met, and she just attacked like I hadn't ever expected her too. It was just…evil. That was another reason I didn't take pills.

Speaking of, I reached into my pocket and pulled out an orange prescription bottle and looked at my collection. I had a various array of Prozac, Paxil, Zoloft, Celexia, and some Lovox. They'd pretty much given me the entire array, because they thought that the one before hadn't worked. Well, they were never taken, so I wouldn't know. Aside from the antidepressants, I had some extra strength Vicoden, Percocet, straight up Oxy, I was set up. But I was about to lose all my antidepressants. Not that it mattered to me, I didn't use them.

But they were excellent bargaining chips.

I pushed open the door to the stairwell, and I heard laughing. I walked up a flight of stairs, and Connor was snickering, and Murphy, who Connor was leaning on, was bright red.

"What's up boyos?"

"This ungrateful pissant is giving me shit, after I risked my ass to get _his_ rosary." Murphy informed me.

"Awh calm da fuck down Ma," Connor snickered. "I'm not ungrateful, especially seein as what ye had ta to in order ta get it."

"Oy! Shut it!"

"What'd you have to do Murphy?"

"Nothin…" He mumbled right when Connor said "He agreed to take Nurse Betty's husband's place at their ballroom dancing class!" I howled with laughter with Connor, and Murphy glared at both of us.

"I'll fuckin drop ye Connor, don't think I won't."

"Awh Murphy, it'll be just like Cinderella! If you know, Cinderella was a cougar and the prince was Irish."

"Why don't the two of ye go head butt a bullet"

"Oh…no thanks" Connor shook his head. "No more bullets thank ye very much."

"Aye" Murphy smiled and turned to me. "Alright, Blainey, let's get the fuck out of here, before they realize that Connor's not there anymore."

"Alright, follow me." I told them, and up the stairs, Connor groaned, but complied the best he could. We had to go up two more floors before I knocked on the door.

"Shouldn't we be going down?" Murphy asked.

"We are."

"…Pretty sure dat we're not…"

"Just shut up and let me work, Aye?" I mocked his accent. He stuck his tongue out at me. I rolled my eyes and waited for the door to open.

"Ms. Blaine?" Angie, the cleaning lady looked at me. I smiled.

"Hey Angie, I need a favor."

"I see that, what are you doing?"

"Well, we wanna get out."

"All three of you?"

"Yeah."

"Blaine…there's no way we can do that." she shrugged. I scoffed and pulled out my orange bottle, this time devoid of the painkillers. Angie's eyes widened. "That's so much!"

"I know you can't afford the prescriptions Angie, and I know your husband's getting worse, and there's enough to help with your son's PTSD too. All you have to do is get us out through the service entrance." I shook the bottle, and the pills, more valuable then gold in this hospital, rattled around. Angie bit her lip, and opened the door wider, ushering us in. She lead us through the abandoned wing of the hospital and to the old elevator.

"Leads right to the garage, where the camera's aren't aimed, because no one's supposed to use it." She smiled. I smiled back at her and handed her the bottle. "You're not coming back are you Ms. Blaine?"

"I'm afraid not Angie."

"In that case, _Dios sea con ustedes. _May God be with you three." she smiled at me.

"Bye Ang, thanks for everything." the woman smiled and walked away. I got into the elevator with the brothers. They stared at me. "Alright, what?"

"What did ye give her?"

"Anti-depressants."

"Why?"

"Because, last year, their twin boys were caught in a car bomb. One of them lived, and the other…well, not so much. After that, her husband developed a severe case of depression, and her son that survived, was sent home, and he suffers from PTSD, and Angie only has the cleaning job." I answered.

"Christ, a drug dealer with good intentions."

"I'm not a dealer, I didn't get paid."

"She got ye out."

"She would've anyways."

"Then why…?"

"It was the right thing to do."

"But shouldn't ye be takin-" luckily the elevator doors opened then, and prevented me from having to answer as we maneuvered out of the parking garage without being caught by the cameras. Which, I admit I was very very good at.

"Alright," I exhaled deeply, once we were safely away from the hospital, Murphy and a lagging Connor close behind. "You guys got a car?"

"Aye…well…sorta…it's kind on-" Murphy started.

"Barrowed time." Connor finished. I sighed.

"How bad?"

Oh it was bad. That poor clunker had seen some better days, that was for sure. I was hesitant about even getting into it. It looked like it was going to eat me or something. Fucking creep. But I crawled in the back, all the same. Connor was somehow put next to me, and I realized that his hand was bleeding.

"Connor," I pointed to his hand. He glanced down.

"Ah, aye. Dat was from the I.V."

"…wait…you took it out yourself?"

"…Noooo I asked a nurse ta do it. She loved the idea." he rolled his eyes. I made a face at him. He rolled his eyes. Huh, Déjà vu.

Finally, Murphy pulled up to, how do I describe this delicately, a fucking piece of shit, hole in the wall building. Awesome.

Murphy managed to get Connor out, and I followed behind them, watching. I thought I had them pegged, that Connor was older, I don't know why, it was just a feeling, but now I think I might've been wrong…or at least needed to rethink it.

Murphy walked behind Connor, letting him walk on his own, but tensed, and ready to catch him if he fell. And Murphy, who was normally all over the fucking place, moving at a hundred miles an hour, was matching his wounded brother's pace.

It was foreign to me, the bond between the two of them. I didn't, currently, have any siblings, and I'd never known anyone to have such a connection like the two of them had. It was just, amazing really. To be that dedicated to someone.

"Oy! Are ye coming, or are ye just gonna keep staring at our asses?" Murphy called towards me, a smirk playing across his features. I blushed and my therapeutic finger graced his words. He laughed and gestured for me to hurry up. I rolled my eyes and followed him up three flights of stairs. Poor Connor.

We finally reached a door, that Murphy unlocked with difficulty, and finally pushed into. I glanced inside, and my heart stopped.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Lords name." Connor and Murphy answered automatically. I ignored them.

"This is the most disgusting place I've ever seen…"

"Really?"

"Hands down." I was still in shock, there were beer cans and bottles everywhere. Way more then was healthy for two people, Irish or not. Six or seven ashtrays were thrown sporadically around. And a thick layer of dust seemed to coat everything.

"Eh" the twins shrugged, walking in. Connor immediately walked into a room, and I heard him flop down and groan. Murphy bit his lip and glanced at his brother.

"Don't worry." I smiled at him. "I'm a pretty good nurse."

"Oh are ye?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and besides," I pulled out my other collection of painkillers. "I'd also make a very good apothecary."

"Jesus fuckin Christ, yer like a pharmacy."

"Lords name." I smirked. "and yes, yes I am."

"God bless ye lass." he smiled and mussed my hair. I glared at him. "I gotta go, I'll be back later."

"Where you going?"

"Well, I have to go to dance class with Ole Betty" he sighed, pulling out a smoke "and, then I need to go meet a friend of mine at that club on 58th." he told me. I snickered and he stared at me.

"What?"

"Well, uh, you ever been to that club?"

"No, why?"

"Well, uh, it's a gay club." I laughed. "Like hardcore."

"Fucking brilliant," Murphy sighed and headed to the door, mumbling. "Mother fucking faggot knew it was a fucking gay club, gonna fucking get raped up the fucking ass."

I smiled, if anything, this was going to be interesting…now, where's a fucking rag.

I was not living in this filth.

*Boss*

The boss was happy. Very very happy.

He had been presented with a very rare, very unique opportunity. And he intended to make sure that he took full advantage of the situation.

He, single handedly, could very well take out the Saints of South Boston.

Okay, well maybe not single handedly. He'd use a few of his soldiers to get a few points across before he got involved.

But he'd started the game today. He was just waiting to hear about how that went.

He scratched his arms, which was covered with tattoos. Actually his entire neck, and most of his torso was covered with tattoos. Which is why he couldn't exactly head out on his own. It would've been a little noticeable.

He leaned back in his leather chair, and propped his boots on the top of his very expensive desk. He pulled a Cuban out, and lit it. Taking a tasteful drag.

It was good to be the boss, and he was good at it.

Not even 25, and he was the head of this operation. He smiled and popped his knuckles, as he thought about the events that had unfolded.

At first, things had been bad. Every deal that his operation had tried to complete, had been interrupted by a surprise appearance by the Saints. Business had been bad for a while, and since he only sent one man to a deal, and one man hidden, just in case, a getaway for them was not impossible. It was because of this that he's managed to make the connection.

He had three new recruits, and he'd been using only one of them to run messages for him. This recruit had known about all the exchanges.

All the exchanges he had known about, had the Saints pop in.

The recruit was not in league with the saints, on that was definitely not the case. The recruit wasn't smart or strong enough to be working with the Saints.

The police however, he was definitely stupid enough to be working with the police. And it was very very probable that the Saints were in league with at least a few members of the police force.

It wasn't easy to just waltz into a courtroom and kill a man.

He'd know, he'd tried.

But the Saints pulled it off effortlessly. There was some police involvement. There had to be.

Oh well, he'd find out soon. That was for sure.

"Boss?" He looked over toward the door, and smiled at his massive bodyguard, Tank. Everyone called him Tank. For obvious reasons. "Can I come in?"

"'Ave a seat" the Boss gestured towards the nice chair opposite his desk. Tank settled himself. "So, tell me what 'appened?"

"It went relatively well, there was no one else around, and I managed to corner the girlfriend that's been hanging around them lately. I threw her against a wall, and I left the note where they would be sure to find it."

"And that would be?"

"Down her shirt." Tank answered, the Boss chuckled.

"Well mate, there's no denying that it won't be found. But will she give it to them?"

"I have to assume so, she won't understand the language. And they saw the whole exchange, I'm absolutely sure that they did. So if she won't act, they certainly will."

"Brilliant. Bloody brilliant." the Boss smiled again and popped his knuckles again. "This is turning into a game of chess my friend."

"Is it now?"

"I believe so mate. That's in our favor."

"Of course it is."

"Because, what do we know about me and chess?"

"No one can fucking touch you."

"No one can fucking touch me." the Boss nodded, and grabbed a bottle off the shelf behind him and held it up. "Cheers mate"

**Author's (other) note: alright so, since i can't put you in my head, here's the dealio sort of. **

**Since i thought up this gang when i was listening to Chelsea Smile by BMTH, i felt it fitting to have the boss be Ollie Sykes. so that's pretty much who the boss is based off of. his appearance, if you will. and Tank's appearance would be Rafe from Days Of Our Lives and yeah, that's all i wanted to say. oh! and please review :D it makes my tummy warm and fuzzy!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: You wanted bad guys? you got bad guys! you want drama and comedy? all for you! :D and another contest! If you can tell me what movie Blaine's watching, i'll name the pink haired angel after you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own BDS, Richardson Gang aka Torture Gang, or the movie Blaine's watching! or anything else that you find cool :D**

Chapter Eight: Sneaky Omissions and Snitches with Stiches

*Blaine*

_Fucking disgusting!_ I thought to myself as I walked out of the room I had passed out in last night. I put the time to be at about noon? Yeah noon.

How two civilized human beings could live in a place like that, it's just beyond me.

Really, all the grime and dust and dirt everywhere, I wasn't OCD in the slightest…it must be the woman in me. I was being biologically compelled to clean that kitchen. But before that, I had to play nurse duty. I walked slowly to Connor and Murphy's room, to check on Conn. we'd been home for ten minutes before he promptly passed out on his bed, and there he stayed all night. He was just sleeping, slightly snoring, and I was grateful. But when he woke up, he was going to need a pill, I was 98% sure he'd sleep off whatever morphine he'd had in his system.

Getting back to my womanly duties, I started with, what else? The kitchen. However, I ran into a snag, almost immediately. I couldn't find a rag that wasn't coated in a brownish red substance that I didn't even want to identify, and I couldn't find a cleaner per say. It was as I was rummaging under their sink that I struck gold.

Literally.

Pinesol had never looked so good! I filled up the sink with scalding water and poured a good amount of it into the scalding hot water. I managed to gather a relatively clean rag and I drowned it in the water.

I proceeded to scour the kitchen, armed with my Pinesol and rag. I noticed a reoccurring theme as I cleaned, around the stove mainly. There were pennies everywhere! I'm not talking like dropped their spare change after the gas station change either. I'm talking like two or three dollars right here.

These guys were very loose with their pocket change.

I gathered all the coins up, and put them into a nice little stack against the wall, next to the black pot on the stove. The kitchen cleaning took way too long, it was almost an hour later by the time I finished.

Smiling at the now sanitary area that was the kitchen, I stretched and headed towards one of the rooms Murphy had told me I could shack up in. I felt kinda bad, because I was almost sure I had taken either his or Connor's room…but then I remembered that Connor had just been shot, and there was no way that Murphy would've stayed in a different room.

The room was small, but it was tidy, and it held a single mattress, and it even had sheets on it! Unlike Connor's I had noticed. I pulled off my now grimy white long sleeve, and opted for a black shorts sleeve, one of the few I owned. At last second, I pulled on several thick neon bracelets over my left wrist. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. I couldn't believe I was out of the hospital. No more pills, no more group sessions, no more one on ones, no more depression.

Almost made me want to get on my knees and thank that guy in the sky that Murphy had so much faith in.

"Awh, fuck me" I heard the low moan from the room next to me. I rushed over to Connor, who was curled up on his good side, in pain. I knelt down next to him.

"Where's it hurt Connor?"

"Fuckin everywhere…" he managed to get out. "Can ye give me a few more pills."

"I can give you one, in like, ten minutes."

"Why not fucking now?"

"Because, they're super addictive, if I give you more then suggested, it's very probable that you'll end up addicted to them." I explained. He gave a pained smirk.

"Oh aye? Is dat right doctor Blaine?"

"See, it can't be all bad if you're feeling up to making fun of me." I deadpanned. He gave a small laugh that quickly turned into a groan.

"Ten minutes?"

"Only five now" I smiled at him and mussed his hair, I realized I was starting to act like the chain smoking Irishmen. Oh joy. "Remember, it could always, always be worse."

"Really, and how the fuck could dis be worse?"

"Well, you could be your brother, who's slow dancing with an old lady and after that, he's said he's meeting a friend at a gay club." Connor snorted. "Is uh, is Murphy gay?"

"Complete opposite" Connor smiled. "Trust me."

"So, the room that I'm in, the mattress that actually has sheets on it, did that belong to a lady friend?" I winked at him. He scoffed.

"No lass, dat was our Da's. He decided ta head back to Ireland though, no. Neither of us have had a lass in the bed in a long while."

"Seriously?"

"Ye sound quite confused by dat."

"Well, I'm just wondering if that's by choice, because let me tell you, the nurses were talking about what they would do to you two if given the chance….and good Lord in heaven, you wouldn't believe half the things they were saying." I confided in him. He gave me a perfect shit eating smirk.

"Aye, well, we have a demandin job I'm afraid."

"Oh, what do you guys do?"

"We, uh we work at a meat packing, plant." he managed. Well, I've never met a worse liar, then Connor MacManus.

"Uh…huh…"

"Aye, so can I have dat pill now?"

"Yeah, here." I handed him the little pink pill, and a bottle of water. "You need to eat something with that though."

"No, if I eat, I'll just throw it back up." he moaned, and dry swallowed the pill.

"You feel sick?"

"Aye, I haven't felt dis bad since me and Murph realized dat Pinesol makes us both sick ta our stomachs."

Whoops…

"Well, that's just really weird." I told him, and pushed some of his hair off his forehead. His eyes cut to my wrist, which was showing on scar…again. I immediately recoiled and he stared at me.

"Why'd ye try to kill yerself?"

"W-What?"

"Murphy told me. Twins ye know. Share everything." He mumbled. I growled inwardly. Fucking Murphy.

"It was an accident."

"Oh really now, and ye expect me ta believe dat?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Well, that's the second time I've seen that fuckin scar, and it's big. How was that an accident?"

"I got attacked by wolverines."

"Bull fucking shit."

"How would you know? Have you seen what a wolverine attack looks like?"

Connor stared at me and I shrugged. He rolled his eyes and readjusted himself on the mattress, grumbling.

_Blaine-1 Boyos-0_ I smirked to myself as I left the water bottle next to Connor and walked back out to continue cleaning.

I would totally be able to survive this, without letting them in, as long as I could continue to outsmart the two Irishmen.

Piece of cake.

Speaking of cake, I was starving, and seeing I had ripped that kitchen apart piece by fucking piece, and I had found no food. I decided to run down to the convenience store for box of ramen or something. Seeing as Connor had once again reached a sate of comatose, I could run out and back in no time at all.

Okay, maybe a little time…the old man behind the counter had no idea what he was doing, so buying a box of ramen and some peanut butter had taken almost a half hour!

I was grumbling to myself as I walk toward the door to enter Connor and Murphy's building, when I was thrown against a wall. And not gently either. Déjà vu.

I opened my eyes, and stared into the eyes of same man from the hospital. I held my breath.

"Hello girl." he smiled at me. I bit my lip.

_Shit, what did Oprah say to do in situations like this? Was I supposed to scream? Or wait, was I supposed to drop to the fetal position? Damnit I didn't remember._ I growled.

He pushed me harder against the wall and I closed my eyes. He laughed and threw me to my knees, holding on to my arm. I cried out in pain as my shoulder popped. He slid my bracelets up and stared at my three scars, along with the lighter thin ones that had almost faded.

"Well, well, well, you really are insane."

"Let go" I growled. He just smiled and pulled out a knife. I tried to pull away, but every move I made just hurt my shoulder. He pressed the knife against my skin and pulled, against the grain if you will. I groaned. It hurt!

He flicked his knife closed and threw me on the ground. I cradled my arm and glared at him.

"Don't bother telling, think about it. Either everyone will think your insane, and did it to yourself, or you'll be the burden, who brought us to your friends house." I clenched my teeth. He laughed and walked away.

He fucking walked.

I got back on my knees and looked at my cut, it wasn't deep, it just hurt, and could be classified as a bleeder. My rubber bracelets were stained with blood. I glared at where the giant man had been and grabbed my groceries.

I pushed opened the boyo's door and was welcomed with screaming.

"THERE'S NO FUCKIN WAY YER DOIN THIS ALONE!" Ah, well, Connor was up.

"WHAT? ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING GET UP AND HELP? THIS IS OUR ONE SHOT HERE? OR ARE YE CONTENT GETTING FUCKING STALKED?" and Murphy was home. This was strange, I wasn't used to them talking to each other like that. They were always bantering, but never this anger. I slipped in, trying to be unnoticed as they continued to scream about Murphy going somewhere alone.

I ran the sink and held my cut underneath it, watching the blood swirl down the drain.

Once the cold water closed up the blood vessles, I looked around for a bandage.

"FUCK YOU CONNOR! THIS IS OUR ONE SHOT AND I'M TAKING IT!" Murphy growled and walked out of Connor's room.

"Fuckin stubborn Mickass…" followed him out of Connor's room. Murphy scoffed and noticed me. His eyebrow raised.

"What happened to ye?"

"I fell on my way back, caught the mean end of a broken bottle." I lied easily, like velvet. It was kinda sick how good at lying I was.

Murphy however, wasn't buying a ticket to my show. He glanced at the cut, under the stream of water, and then at me. I met his gaze.

"What really happened?"

"I ran into a pissed off wolverine." I retorted. They didn't need to know. It wasn't there problem.

*Murphy*

I leaned against a brick wall, a smoke in my mouth and a single gun pressed against my rib cage. I kept my eye on Smecker who was having his monthly meeting with his oh-so-faithful informant, James. This was our only chance to find out what was going on, fuck if I was alone. Connor would have to get over that.

I'd met Smecker up at his little gay club, and he informed me that he would be meeting up with James later, and if I wanted to talk to him, all I had to do was wait around. I was all for that.

From what I had seen of James so far he was a nervous mother fucker. He kept looking behind his shoulder, and rubbing his hands together. How was this feller holding up a position in a syndicate, was beyond me. He looked terrified by his own shadow.

Smecker nodded, stood up and shook James' hand then headed out, probably back toward the club. He's actually been making some progress with a very dark looking man.

Good for him.

James stayed in the diner for another half hour, and I wish he'd move his ass. It was getting fucking cold! Hell, t'was almost October, what did I expect. I shivered and hopped up and down, my hands deep in my pockets.

God never mentioned how much waiting was involved in this line of work. I wasn't the most patient human being.

Finally, James left he diner, and in an amazing stroke of luck, or divine intervention, he decided to head down the alleyway I was hiding. After he passed me, I grabbed the back of his jacket, and threw him against the wall, pressing the side of his face to the left so he wouldn't be able to see me. He was trembling under my grip.

"W-what the hell?"

"Don't call upon hell dere James, ye won't like what answers." I hissed my voice full of malice and hate. James froze under my grip.

"Oh my God, y-you're one of them!"

"One a' who James, be specific fer me." I felt James jump when I said his name.

"One of the S-Saints" he whimpered. I pushed him against the wall harder.

"Really? Now if I was one of the Saints, why would I be coming after you? The Saints don't fuck with the innocent."

"Ow! Oh fuck oh fuck, you're coming aft-after me because I sold you out…everything I informed on, you guys showed. I figured it out, and I told on you. I-I set you up. Because you guys are stealing information from that-that FBI agent, and he has no idea." James blubbered. Murphy let out a sigh of relief, at least James hadn't connected them and Smecker together.

"Aye, and see, we don't like being fucked over like that." I snarled, and pressed the muzzle of my Barretta against he forehead. He squeaked like a mouse.

"Oh please don't kill me!" he cried.

"Why not? You tried to kill us."

"I'm sorry! The gang was starting to figure out what was going on! I had to do something to cover my ass! I mean, if maybe you shouldn't be stealing information from an FBI agent!" James snarled. I raised my eyebrow. Oh we have a backbone now do we? I cocked the gun. "Oh! Oh shit I'm really really really sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't even begin to cover it." I pressed the barrel harder against his head. He cried out again. "And since me information has dried up, ye aren't much use ta me anymore."

"Oh please don't kill me, please, I'll tell you anything I want, really! I just can't end up with penny eyes in South Boston! I mean, my mom flip a bitch!" I rolled my eyes. This is what a man is? This is what they've come too? Pathetic.

"Don't think ye can help me anymore friend."

"I know, I know who's been sending you the notes!" he cried. I took my finger away from the trigger. James took a sigh of relief. "Want me to keep talking?"

"What else do ye have?"

"I-I don't really have much too much, they're kinda hush and shush with their information, and I never told the FBI agent anything because I knew you'd find out. I didn't want you to steal it!"

"Not sure I believe ye James…"

"It's the truth, I swear! They're just starting up in Boston! They're somewhat new, and they're English, you know? Like tea and crumpets? They're shippin in loads of shit that they shouldn't be."

"New gang huh?" I asked, the disbelief apparent in my voice. He cried out.

"I'm serious!"

"What are dey called James!"

"Richardson gang!"

"Are ye fuckin wit me? Dey're da oldest gang in da book!"

"I'm serious man! And the boss has been leaving you notes, and shit. He's gunning for you."

"What's his name?"

"I don't know." James answered. I growled and pulled him away from the wall, then pushed him back into it. "OW!"

"His fucking name! Now!"

"He hasn't let anyone know! Everyone calls him Boss, or Bossman! No one knows his name!" James cried, trembling like a leaf still.

"What of the big mother fucker! Huh?"

"That's the boss' right hand man! Everyone calls him Tank. Fuck if I know his real name!"

"Anything else?"

"They're not going to leave you alone. They're not going to stop until you've been crucified like the Jesus you love so much." James told me. I stared at him.

"Thanks fer yer help James." I smiled, he sighed.

"You gonna kill me man?"

"No, ye live ta snitch another day, but in me opinion, ye best be careful who ye try and fuck with from now on." I answered, and brought my gun down over his head, knocking him out cold. I put him up against the wall, and I called the police, hiding my accent, and telling them that someone had just mugged a guy. They said they would send a bus right over. I thanked them and started back towards my apartment.

So, some British fucks thought they were going to kill me and Connor. Fuckin retards had no idea what they were getting into.

I pulled out a smoke, and sauntered up towards my apartment, and unlocked the door.

It took me a minute to recognize the place…it was, well, clean.

This must be a chick thing, because me and Connor hadn't even attempted to clean the place up since we got it. But now, well, I could see the counter. Hmmm, I'd have to tell Connor that we had a counter. And that it was brown.

"Hey Murphy, how was dance class?" Blaine asked me, her head hanging over the couch.

"It was…ugh." I rubbed my head.

"That well?"

"Yeah," I sat down next to her on the couch. She was watching some movie, where a guy with black hair was singing to a woman in a red dress…on an elephant. "What the fuck is this?"

"This would be the greatest movie in the world." she answered me.

"Ah, not, this looks like shit."

"Yeah, well, you can go and fuck yourself then." She smiled. I rolled my eyes.

"Noticed ye cleaned the place."

"I couldn't handle the dirt. It was nasty. Very very nasty." she shuddered and readjusted her grey sweatshirt.

"Well, thank ye." I smiled at her. "How's Connor."

"Drugged to the teeth." she smiled. I shook my head.

"Brilliant." I shook my head. "Wait, what are ye giving him?"

"Oxy."

"Jesus, where did ye get oxy?"

"So, here." she handed me an orange bottle, and stood up. "He took one about two hours ago. And in two hours. He'll need another one. Just one. One more time. Just one. These pills are really really addictive, and if you give him more then one at a time, there's a very good chance that he'll become addicted. Then he'll start whoring you out in order to get money to score, then after you've been used by more John Does then a season of Law and Order SVU, he'll kill you and sell your organs on the black market."

I stared at her in shock, and she just smiled and kissed my forehead like I had done to her so many times.

"Goodnight kid." she smiled and walked towards Il Duce's old room. I shook my head and dragged my body towards Connor's room. I shed my coat, shirt and jeans then fell onto the mattress next to my brother.

"Ye alive?" I whispered. I heard his low laughter.

"Ta a degree I believe I am."

"Good, I got some interesting information tonight."

"Aye? How was the gay bar?"

"Fuck yourself."

"Serious my brother, what happened?"

"I'll tell ye in the morning, alright? Ye should get your rest."

"Alright." Connor rolled on his back and groaned. He stared at me and offered a weak smile.

"Hey, Connor…"

"Aye?"

"You wouldn't ever, like, whore me out would ye?"

"What the fuck?"

"Or, or like, kill me then sell my organs on the black market so that you could get money to score?" I asked him. Connor sighed.

"No Murphy, I wouldn't do dat to ye."

"Alright, just checking."

"Besides," he continued "Your organs are so fucked up from all the drinkin and smoking, no one would want them." I could almost see his fucking smirk.

"Hey Connor…"

"Aye?"

"Fuck you."

*Boss*

The Boss leaned against the wall next to the door that leads to the basement. He had a cigarette in his mouth.

He was also royally pissed off.

The element of surprise was so incredibly difficult to even get, maintaining it was even harder, but the Boss had believed that he'd had a shot.

Until James opened his mouth.

The Boss wasn't a trusting man, and any new recruit he had followed in order to make sure that they would be loyal to the gang. To the operation.

James had fucked the dog on that one.

The door next to the Boss opened, and Tank stuck his head out.

"He's ready for you."

"Good." the Boss crushed his smoke out and followed tank down the stairs. "Who took care of him?"

"Chelsea." Tanks answered. The Boss let out a low whistle. James wasn't getting off easy today.

"And what of your meeting with the girl?"

"Oh, that was…fun." Tank smiled and ran a hand through his thick hair. "I think she choose to not tell the Saints, which makes it so much more fun for us."

"Nicely done mate. I like when they're unaware." Tank pushed the door open, and the Boss walked in.

Chelsea, was knelt down in front of James. She had black choppy hair, and extremely large sliver eyes, the color of the moon. Straight up silver. She just stared at the Boss as she lifted the hammer she was holding and pounded another nail into James foot. James screamed in agony and tried to thrash away, which was difficult, when he was nailed to the wall.

"I see you didn't get to the bolt cutters there Chelsea."

"Sorry boss." she answered, her voice surprisingly innocent, seeing as she was covered in the informant's blood.

And looking happy about it.

"Not a problem, I'll take over from 'ere." the Boss told her. She nodded and walked away, licking the blood off her hands.

"'Ello James." The Boss smacked James' face. "'Ow's your day been?"

"Oh Boss, what'd I do?"

"Well, buddy, you snitched. We 'ave a no tolerance policy when it comes to snitches. In fact, I'm downright pissed. We could've 'ad the Saints. No problem. We could've taken over New England, and now, I 'ave to do this the 'ard way." Boss sighed. "Now I 'ave all this extra work."

"Oh God…" James sobbed through the pain. He had been nailed to the wall, and the only reason that he still had his fingers and toes was because Chelsea hadn't finished.

They weren't called the Torture Gang for nothing.

"Don't you worry your pretty little 'ead anymore James. I'll put you out of your misery." Boss promised. He pulled out his Stanley knife. He glanced at Tank and Chelsea, who were looking at the knife with longing. _Sorry Mates. Perks of being the Boss._ He thought as he walked towards James.

He wretched James' head back and kneed him in the stomach. James opened his mouth to cough, and Boss stuck his knife in his mouth, and makes a one inch cut near the left and right corner. James clenched his teeth and moaned.

Well, that would never do. Boss lifted his work boot, and slammed it against James' chest, which Tank had already pulverized.

That was all it took, and James screamed. As he opened his mouth, the cuts ripped open up to his ears, and blood rushed from James' face as he screamed in pain, and agony. Praying to his God that it would be over.

"Well, that's fitting don't you think James?" Bossman asked as he pulled a rag out of the back pocket of his jeans, and wiped the blood of his knife. "Now you really do 'ave a big mouth."

James' body finally gave in, and he dropped his head. Dead.

Boss let out a sigh, and he smiled at his mates.

"Well, go ahead and cut 'im down, and why don't ya leave 'im for the nice Agent that thinks 'e's man enough to play our game." He walked past Tank and Chelsea. "You know 'ow much I love a party."

**Man, the fact that i wrote this might say something about my mental health. Well! Review! :D Tell me the movie, or what you think, or if you want to call me crazy? DOOOOOO IT I DARE YOU!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: I wasn't going to update today, but since the packers won the superbowl, i was feeling giving! oh and the answer to what movie Blaine was watching, it was moulin rouge, if you haven't seen it, go smack yourself in the face, and then rent it. it's the greatest. anyways, fun chapter, we get to meet the artist and the coroner! :D as always, please review!**

**Dislaimer: No owno the BDS or the Styx song that muprhy sings in the shower. but you should tell me what that song is in a review!**

Chapter 9: Paint Splatter and Brain Matter

*Connor*

"OH MAMA I'M IN FEAR FROM MY LIFE FROM THE LONG ARM OF THE LAW!" Murphy's screeched called from the bathroom. I groaned and tried to roll back over.

_Fucking Murphy, fucking 80s music, fucking shower._ Ran through my head as I attempted to gain my sleep back. But Murphy continued to finish that damned song. Ever since the whole Saints deal had started, that had become Murphy's shower song. Fuck. I hated that song.

However, aside from being rudely awakened, I found that I wasn't in that much pain today. Maybe it was healing, or Blaine's fucking pharmacy, or both. But I actually felt decent today. And I sure as hell wasn't going to spend my first real health day in bed. Fuck, I'd spent the last two weeks in bed. I might not be moving a hundred and fifty miles an hour like Murphy, but I had limits on how long I could veg before I went insane.

Getting out of bed, I tested my body's locomotion. There was a slight hitch in my giddy up from the bullet I took to the leg, but other then that, I seemed fine. Some dull throbbing, but nothing a pill wouldn't fix. I happily pulled on a shirt, and a pain of jeans and headed towards the kitchen.

Holy fuck, the place was clean.

"Women," I mumbled under my breath. "Can't leave well enough alone." I was a fan of me and Murphy's slob décor, it made us original, and took very little effort to maintain. Buuuut apparently the teenager had other plans. I headed over to the fridge, and pulled out a beer. We didn't have any coffee, so this was going to have to do. I plopped down and the table, and popped the top.

"Oh hell no!" Murphy's voice came seemingly out of nowhere, and my beer was pulled out from my grasp. He was standing there in a pair of jeans, his hair dripping over everything. Leave it to my brother to be to fucking lazy to get dressed all the way.

"What the fuck?"

"Are ye retarded? Ye can't drink and be taking pills at da same time!"

"Who the fuck are ye? Ma?" I asked him. He rolled his eyes.

"Ye were so fucked out on those pills last night, ye were saying all sorts a shit. I don't even wanna know what will happen if ye throw alcohol in dere wit it."

"…what kinda shit?" I asked. Murphy grinned like a fucking Cheshire cat.

"Ye never mentioned dat ye hooked up wit Riley O'Teren ye sly dog." Murphy laughed. I turned bright fucking red. Great, my brother knew about my tryst wit our teacher's aid. Brilliant.

"Fuck yerself, I'm hungry."

"I don't give a fuck if yer hungry. Ye ain't drinkin yer breakfast, not today."

"Fuck you."

"Back at ye." he responded, taking a swig off my beer. I glared at him. "Come on now, if ye want me ta share what happened last night, I suggest ye put a fuckin smile on."

"Just fuckin tell me."

"Aye. So here's the jist a' it. Smecker's informant figured out dat we're stealing information, so he sets us up. Almost fucking worked too. But here's da fucked up part. He sold us out to the Richardson gang." Murphy told me. I snorted.

"The British Syndicate? Like from da 60s?"

"Aye." Murphy nodded. "Apparently, they're trying ta get back on the map. Shipping in some shit I guess." I rubbed my eyes.

"And dey know who we are."

"Aye."

"Do we know who dey are?"

"Da boss just goes by Boss apparently, and dat big mother fucker that attacked Blaine, apparently his name is Tank. Dat's all James could give me. Apparently, tis a very hush hush kinda group we're dealing with."

"Did yer new friend give us an idea as to what dey want?"

"I believe it was something along the lines a' 'ta crucify us like da Jesus dat we love so much'" Murphy answered, taking another pull on the beer. I groaned. "Tisn't even da best part, my dear brother. We're also out an informant." he stood up and opened the fridge, looking for something to eat.

Oh shit, he had a point. We got our information from Smecker, who got his information from this James fellow. And now that we had put the fear of God into James, well, we were fucked. I stared at Murphy, and the gargoyle tattoo's on his back. The idea hit me like a fucking freight train.

"Maybe we aren't out of information after all." I threw out there.

"What? Ye know someone else?" he asked traveling deeper into the abyss that was our fridge . I stood behind him and poked his tattoo. His head flew up, and he smacked it on the fridge.

"NO FUCKING WAY!" he roared. I raised my eyebrows.

"Still a sore topic dere Murph?"

"Not gonna fuckin do it." he mumbled. I rolled my eyes.

"Will ye look at da big picture here? Might be our only chance to figure out what's going on here, and we need some help. We're up da river without a fucking paddle. And ta be honest, I don't much like the idea of getting fuckin shot again. We need ta have the fucking upper hand, and she might be able to give it to us."

"Maybe ye don't remember, but dat didn't end so well last time we talked."

"Well, maybe ye should go apologize." I smirked at my brother. He looked like he was going to hit me, but Blaine decided to walk into the kitchen at that time.

Christ she looked like the walking dead. (lol reedus plug!)

She was wearing a baggy white tank top, and way too big sweats, and there was a bandage wrapped tightly around her left wrist, and she was cradling her left shoulder.

"Th' fuck happened ta ye?" I asked. She stared at me.

"I fell, you guys got any ice packs? I think I hurt my shoulder." Murphy walked over to the lass, and felt around her shoulder. He was checking to see if it was dislocated, which, hurts like a bitch. He poked and prodded, and Blaine winced, but never cried out.

"Ye didn't dislocate it," he finally said "But I don't think ye could've done dat by fallin down."

"You don't huh?"

"Unless ye fall, and yer first instinct is to stick yer arms behind ye, den no." he answered. I stared at her. She smiled at the two of us.

"Down boyos. I'm fine."

"Ye look the exact opposite of fine." I told her, staring at her wrist. She looked away.

"I didn't." she answered the unspoken question. "Actually, if you want the truth, that creepy guy from the hospital garden cornered me yesterday, he roughed me up and told me there was no point in telling, because I'm insane, and everyone would think I did it to myself." she yawned. "Got any coffee?"

"He attacked ye?" Murphy asked, shocked. I felt anger travel up my spine. That was our freak, no one gets to hurt her. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm alright. Anyways, I didn't see a point in telling the two of you, because all I'd get is brushed off. Seeing as I haven't 'earned the truth' yet." she smirked and me and Murphy looked away this time.

It was quite the conundrum, that topic. If we told Blaine the truth, then she might get scared and split. Then we'd have to worry about her getting attacked, and neither of us being there to protect her. But if we didn't tell her, and she continued to get attacked, she'd start to resent us more and more. It was a bit of a mess.

"Oh, and this is why I came out here." she yawned again, and set Murphy's phone on the table. "It won't stop buzzing."

"Awh shite." Murphy mumbled and grabbed the phone, and headed into the other room. Blaine walked around the kitchen.

"So, what sounds good for breakfast?" she asked, heading to the fridge "We have…a jar of peanut butter…some ramen…a questionable looking box of take out…I think those are batteries in the back…and, wow shocker, more pennies." she gave me a 'what the fuck' look and turned back to the fridge. "You guys have a lot of spare change."

"Change from all da smokes." I smiled.

"Yeah well, it's not fucking edible-Aha!" she cried, pulling out a plastic bag. "We have chocolate coins!"

"Of course we fuckin do." I mumbled. "So, we're having ramen and peanut butter, wit chocolate coins on top den?"

"Well, it would appear so." Blaine grimaced. "Doesn't sound that appealing."

"Not in the slightest, no." I agreed. Although, I was hungry enough to give it a try. Luckily, Murphy entered the room before me and Blaine made a stomach suicide pact.

"Oportet occurrere cum smecker dicit indiget colloquium de praesenti quod relinquitur limen." Murphy looked at me. I groaned. _We need to meet up with Smecker, he says he needs to talk to us about a present that was left on his doorstep. _

"What? What language was that?" Blaine asked.

"Latin." we responded.

"Morbid. I can dig it." she nodded. "So, what can't I know about?" she looked from me to Murphy. We looked at each other.

"Come on lass." I smiled at her. "Let's go out to eat." she sighed.

"Are you just going to continue to dodge my questions?"

"Aye." We both answered her. She stood up and headed towards her room.

"Stupid Irishmen, stupid Latin, stupid…"

*Murphy*

I popped my knuckles as we walked towards the diner we usually met Smecker at. He didn't sound to happy on the phone, and I could only imagine what the fuck me and Connor did to piss him off. I mean seriously, it had only been a few hours….

"Can't wait to get some fuckin food." Connor smiled from beside me. I rolled my eyes.

"Gonna get back on yer fatass schedule den?"

"Awh fuck yerself, I'm starving."

"Fuck you both." Blaine responded, grouchy faced as anything.

"Yer just a right ray of sunshine in da morning aincha?" Connor asked her. She growled.

"No coffee, you don't get happy-sugar cubes-sunshiney-rainbow-Blaine. You get fuck-with-me-and-I-cut-you-Blaine."

"Fuck, let's hurry then." I nudged Connor, and we picked up our pace until we reached the diner. Smecker was sitting at a booth in the back with some kid. We stared at each other.

"Mornin Smecker." We said as we walked up. The kid Smecker was with looked at us, then at Blaine.

"Holy shit!" She cried. "Ted?"

"Blaine? You're alive?"

"No shit, what are you doing here?"

"If you two wanna catch up, why don't you go out there and smoke, and I'll look the other way." Smecker sighed and handed Ted a pack of cigarettes. Ted took the pack, and him and Blaine headed towards the door again.

"Dat's real good child care dere." Connor noted. Smecker glared at him.

"Do I look like a fucking nanny?"

"Who da hell is he?"

"My sister's kid. He was in some clinic here in Boston, but that shut it down because one of the patients escaped, and since my sister couldn't exactly rush out to get him, she asked me to take him in." He looked at the two of us. "Who's the girl?"

"That would be the escaped patient." I admitted. He stared at us like we were retarded.

"Some more details please."

"Collateral damage of being shot." Connor took over. "The gang that's been stalkin us thinks she's much more involved den she really is."

"So she's up to date on what's happening?"

"Actually, she has no fucking clue."

"Brilliant." he sighed. "So, lets talk about my present."

"Aye," I nodded. "What did you mean by dat?"

"Well, this morning, I went to get my paper, and my informant's body is sitting in my fucking lawn chair, with a Glasgow grin splitting his fucking face. There was blood everywhere, and it sent my nephew there into shock. Not only that, they left me this." he handed us a note, with the same frowny face that had been on Connor's note and a scrawled message at the bottom.

_Welcome to the game, Special Agent_ I slipped my nail into my mouth and chewed on the skin. This was getting fucked up.

"And they stole my paper too. Assholes" Smecker mumbled. Connor looked at me.

_That boy was an innocent_ he said with his eyes.

"Do ye know anything about the Richardson gang?" I asked Smecker, he shook his head.

"James was my sole source of information about them." Fuck.

"So yer saying we're in da dark here?" Connor asked. Smecker nodded.

"That's what I'm saying." double fuck.

"I-I know someone." I finally managed to say. "Might be able to help us out. I'll talk to dem later."

"Fuck that, you talk to them now." Smecker ordered me. "I woke up to a fucking body on my lawn. I want answers. Now." I groaned, and knew Connor would not be backing me up on this. I stood up.

"Fine." and I walked out of the diner. Blaine caught my eye as I was headed out.

"You okay?"

"Aye, I'll be right back. Stay out of trouble."

"Back at you." she winked. I snorted and started walking down the street. I was not looking foreword to this I hadn't seen her in two years.

Not since I dumped her.

Figures she lived near here too, assuming she still lived in the same place. I walked up to the building that had been as familiar as my own and started up the stairs. I had seven flights to think about what I was going to say, and nothing really seemed right. Too soon I arrived at her door.

I really don't want to do this.

I knocked against the door, and heard shuffling from the inside. Shit, she was home. The door opened and the smell of paint and incense flooded my nose. She stared at me in shock.

"Hey, Tina."

"Murphy?" she looked at me confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I have a wee bit of a favor. I need some information." I explained. She narrowed her eyes, but stepped aside so that I could walk in.

Nothing about the place had changed, there was paint splatter everywhere, and ashtrays filled to the brim with incense. The couches were draped in gold and purple blankets and canvases covered the far wall.

She hadn't changed much either. Tan Egyptian skin, dark black hair with chucks of blue and purple thrown in, eyes done up like a Goddess. She was living proof of a starving artist. She looked skinner then all hell, and she was still obsessed with seven. She wore four bracelets on her right hands, and three on her left. She had one a black tank top, a purple bra, according to the visible straps, shorts, I'm going to assume underwear, and one sock. Seven items of clothing.

"I hate to disappoint you Murphy, but I'm not really in that circle anymore." she told me, bringing me out of my shameless staring.

"I know lass, but maybe ye can tell me what ye already know?"

"I don't know, that's like asking the devil in for tea, doesn't seem like a good idea to test fate like that."

"Please Tina?" I asked. She paused.

"Does this have anything to do with the Saint game you're playing?" she raised an eyebrow. I almost jumped out of my fucking skin.

"W-What?"

"I was working on a piece a while back, with newspaper headlines, I have maybe like 400 newspapers in here. And the one, you know, the 'Saints of South Boston' one, was right next to the one about the three Irish guys who wacked Yakavetta." Tina scratched her face. "I might not be a rocket scientist, but it was pretty easy to figure out. I mean, they called you the Saints both times, I surprised no one else figured it out."

"Fuck me" I groaned. She smiled.

"So, is that why you want the information?"

"Aye, dat's why."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"What do ye have on the Richardson gang?" I asked. I might've imagined it, but she went a little pale.

"Well, they're called the torture gang, I know that they're not as strong as they once were, and I know you don't want to fuck with them." she stared at me. She was holding back. I could tell. I knew her.

"What else?"

"That's all I know."

"Tina…please? They shot Connor. I need help." her eyes went as wide as plates.

"Is he dead?"

"No, takes more den three bullets to kill dat sonofabitch, ye know dat. He's a stubborn one. But I'd rather that never happened again, so what do ye say lass? Help me out?"

"…The lower status ones, they hang out by the docks. You can recognize them because a few of them have a Chelsea Smile scar, if not, they have _The Ballad of Charlotte Dymond_ tattooed on their shoulders. It's their mark. After some ghost story." she sighed. I smiled.

"Thank ye Tina." she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, whatever." I cleared my throat.

"How ye been?"

"Do you really care?"

"Aye. Course I do." I answered, pulling out a smoke. She tossed me a lighter, something she used to do when we were dating. Complete reflex. I saw her blush.

Well, this just got different. I lit my smoke and tossed her lighter back to her. She pocketed it and looked around.

"The art things good. I'd ask how you've been doing, but I'll just wait to read it in the papers tomorrow."

"Aye, well," I cleared my throat again. "Guess I'll be seein ye."

"No, you won't." she told me. "But, if you do need help, just let me know? I'd hate to know you and Connor died, and I could've done something."

"Will do," I nodded and headed to her door. "S'long Tina."

"Bye Murphy."

*Connor*

I walked with smecker to the entrance of the diner. he looked at his phone groaned..

"So Connor, since your jailer's gone, want to spend a little more time outdoors?" smecker asked me. I looked at him with a smirk.

"I'm not that type o' guy smecker, i like sweet words before a date."

"Fuck yourself MacManus, I have to go run an errand and i really don't like doing it alone, you want to come? Might shed some more light on this gang."

"Sure." I shrugged, looking over at Blaine and Ted, who were smoking and laughing. The diner was packed now, and there was a cop sitting a few feet away from Blaine. She'd be safe. I walked with smecker for a while, him grumbling on about Ted.

"I don't know why my sister thought he'd be a good fit with me, he's a kid, which i know absolutely shit about, and he was in a suicide clinic. We're talking gunshot attempt to the heart. This coming from my all American, football playing nephew." Smecker sighed as we reached a building.

"Office of the Medical Examiner" I read. My heart skipped a beat. "Are you fuckin serious?" I asked. "You brought me to a fuckin autopsy!"

"Like I said, i don't like going alone, the med examiner is a real bitch and a half." Smecker walked in and had no choice but to follow. "But she's good, and she might be able to tell us what happened to James." I was creeped out immediately. I didn't like the idea that there were various dead people, in this building…right now. I followed Smecker through several halls and we finally stopped outside of door. I didn't want to go in, but Smecker knocked and we were called in. I took a deep breath.

"Agent agent agent! Welcome back" a feminine voice laughed. I opened my eyes and saw a black haired woman in scrubs and glasses wink at smecker. then she looked at me "Is it bring your life partner to work day?"

"Not today Mika, alright?"

"Life partner?" I asked, she giggled.

"Why not today?" she asked, pulling her hand out of a body's chest cavity. I thought I was going to be sick. "You're the only company I've had so far that can actually answer my questions, the least you could do is enlighten me. Anyways, you here for the early morning Vic?"

"Yeah. What do you got?" Smecker asked. Mika sighed and moved over to another table. she pulled back the sheet and I swore, and not politely either. They both looked at me.

"Sorry" I blushed. "I just wasn't expecting, well, that." I managed. On the table was a young guy, and his mouth had been torn open. I could see all his fuckin teeth from where i was standing. And there were several dark bruises along his chest, and he had hundreds of small holes outlining his body.

"No worries there honey," Mika smiled. "most of my fellow interns wouldn't last as long as you. i'm Mika by the way"

"Connor" i smiled.

"Awh, love at first glance of mutilated corpse" smecker spat. "Mika I came here for a report, so hurry it the fuck up"

"Someone's pissy today. Not a lot of what what in the butt lately?" she smiled sweetly.

"I fuckin hate you."

"Oh please agent, if i were a man, you'd want me sooo bad." she grinned evilly at him. "As for a report, pretty standard beating. Bruising all along the ribs and intestines, cracked a few bones, the ribs protecting the heart were shattered, so his heart was pierced. The circular wounds surrounding his body had small fragments of cement inside of them. So logically, I'd have to say that you're present here had been nailed to a wall. But his big happy face, that's what did him in. The pain and the loss of blood made his pierced heart explode." she finished. "And when I walked down here this morning he was sitting up on the table. Don't think I'm ever going to get used to that." Smecker looked like he wanted to throw up. I could see why he hated coming alone to this place. I wasn't enjoying it meself.

"thanks Mika, it helped." Smecker told her, jotting down everything she said.

"I aim to please Agent" she smiled. "Oh there is one more thing..."

"What?" smecker asked, exasperated. Mika rolled the body onto his side so that Smecker could see the back.

_There will be more _was fuckin carved into his skin.

"Jesus Christ" I hissed. Mika had lost the mirth in her eyes.

"So, should i expect to see more of these?"

**so go ahead and review, because seriously, i just moved and i'm feelin sad and need a pick me up! so let me know what you think! :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: so this chapter is really, really, really ehhhhhhhh. but it was necesary to keep the story moving. i'm really sorry for the amount of suckness that seems to radiate from it, but hey, look! DOUBLE DIGITS! :DDDDDD also, i wanna give a quick shout out to ThisSideOrTheOther and TrunksgirlBlaze27 because they review religiously and make my heart melt from happiness :DD**

**Dislaimer!: Do not own the BDS, Richardson Gang, The Strangers, OR Murphy's Shower Song ;] go 80s!**

Chapter Ten : Confined Quarters and Cut up

*Blaine*

I fell hard against he hard wooden floor and groaned, I hadn't been ready for this at all. The pain ran through my arms, and it was so foreign that the pure shock of it had almost sucked my breath away.

I fucking hated push ups.

"Dat all ye got lass?" Connor teased from where he was sprawled out on the floor. I lifted my head and stuck my tongue out. Me and Conn were in some nameless gym, and I was putting Connor through some good old fashioned, physical therapy. Much to his dismay. He hadn't been remotely interested until I made it a contest.

Because, apparently, having a 27 year old man out pushup a 18 year old girl is winning in his book.

I wasn't big on upper body work outs myself, but I had to get out of that apartment. It had been almost three weeks since we'd gone to the diner, and that was the last time they had let me out. Since I got attacked, I had been put on house arrest, so I'd been in a pissy as all hell mood. I didn't like being treated like a puppy. And being cooped up in that small amount of space with the twins from hell hadn't been fun either. Murphy had been in a seriously angry mood since he'd gotten back from the diner, like seriously angry. I don't know if Connor did something, but I'd have to assume so, because Murphy didn't talk to him except to mumble curses in Italian (which is Connor's least favorite language) and occasionally start a scuffle. Connor was being a bitch in his own right, since he'd started walking around, he wasn't able to stop and having no room to really stretch out caused him to ache up, which put him in a not so sweet as sugar mood.

Now, mix the three of us up, and but in a confined space, and let sit for three weeks.

We were so close to killing each other.

"Congrats Connor." I panted. "You beat me, your manly muscles are obviously no match for mine. I truly am the weaker sex."

"Don't ye fucking forget it."

"Gee, I'll try." I rolled my eyes and pushed myself up one last time, and getting to my knees. Connor mirrored my actions and he rubbed his shoulder. "You doing okay?"

"Aye, it's sore, but it feels looser now. And let me tell ye, it's a relief." he smiled at me. Thank God, the last thing we needed was something to go wrong and have the muscles heal funny.

"What about your leg?"

"What about me leg?"

"Wanna stretch that out too?"

"I think I'm good." he answered. Oh hell no.

"Come on, I'll race you, around the track once. If you win, I'll let you drink tonight! You can get wasted." Connor perked up, intrigued. "And if you win?"

"You just have to answer some questions." he opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "Some non-work related questions. Mostly questions about you two." he smiled.

"Fuckin deal!" He cried and pulled me off the ground. He had a smug look on his face. He could taste the Guinness now I was sure. Well, we'll see I guess. We walked out to the track, and I shivered. It was freezing! Damn October! Fucking Halloween! It was Halloween! Hey! Sweet deal! Me and Connor took our places at the starting line.

"Ready…" I started.

"Set…" he responded.

"GO!" we cried, and took off. For a guy who five weeks ago had a bullet in his leg, Connor moved fast. I was impressed.

But I totally passed the hell out of him, almost immediately. And I kept that lead until the finish line! As soon as I passed it, I fell to my knees and tried to catch my breath. Connor dropped down next to me moments later, panting.

"I have a feeling, that I got set up." he glared at me. I gave him my sweetest smile.

"Track and field, seven years."

"Ye sneaky little bitch."

"You cocky sexist Irishman"

"Is there any other kind of Irishman?" he questioned, flopping down on his back. I laughed.

"None that I've met."

"How many have you met?"

"You and Murphy. You guys talk funny. It's awesome."

"Yer fuckin retarded Blainey." he shook his head and stared up at the sky. His leg probably hurt, but he was to macho to admit so.

"So, you ready to pay up?" I asked. He rolled his eyes.

"Aye, nosey Nelly. Ask away." he responded. I thought for a second, trying to figure out what I needed to know.

"What's up Murphy's ass these last three weeks?"

"Oh Christ, dat's a long story." Connor sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. "Ye in for a story?"

"Always."

"Alright here's da deal. Murphy's pissed at me, cuz I asked him to go ask one of his ex's for a favor. And no, ye can't ask what da favor is." he shot me down before I could even ask. That's a new record.

"He's mad cuz he had to talk to an ex girlfriend?" I asked, skeptical. He'd been such a dick, I couldn't believe it was that petty. Connor sighed deeply.

"Tis a bit more complicated den dat m'fraid." Connor scratched the back of his head. "How do I put dis, me brother, he's…a man whore. Like completely, never really did the whole relationship thing."

"Seriously? Murphy?"

"Aye."

"But, he's like, the sweetest…" I stared. Connor nodded.

"Aye, because ye aren't interested in a relationship, and he loves ye like a little sister. He's the best friend a lass could as for, dats for sure. Perfect at da overprotective big brother thing. But he's a shite boyfriend."

"And why is that?"

"Ta put it simply, he's a commitaphobe."

"No way."

"Aye. He has serious commitment issues. We were preemies, and me Ma's convinced it's because he couldn't stand ta be in her another fuckin day. 'Course, I was born first. But still. I mean, ye've seen him. He can't fuckin sit still ta save his life. His personalities kinda like dat too. He's too…fidgety. Longest he's ever been wit da same lass was a year. Then he met dat ex. Tina's her name, and he seemed really really inta her so I thought it'd be safe ta assume she's be around for a while. But sure as we drink, a year approached, and da boy choked, and poof, dere goes Tina. Dumped her hard too I think. He's not very tactful, my brother." Connor sighed. "He's content bein a perma-single."

"What about you?" I asked. Connor shrugged.

"I'll take what God gives me."

"So…?"

"He's a fuckin romantic." Came from behind us. Connor winced and I turned around slowly. Murphy was standing there with a half smirk, half grimace on his face. "Enjoyin tea time dere ladies?"

"Actually, yes" I smiled. Murphy glared at Connor. He shrugged.

"The lass is a vixen. She tempted me!" I gaped at him, and threw my shoe at him, which connected with his lower stomach.

"Don't make it sound like I seduced you! Asshole. I won that information fair and square. Besides, I just wanted to find out what was up your ass."

"Ye know what Blaine, fuck off, it isn't none of your business." he growled.

"You know what Murphy," I stood up and cocked out a hip. This was my 'get shit done' pose. "I'm so sick of you telling me that it's none of my business! Some massive guy shows up at the hospital and sticks his hand down my shirt and all you say is 'don't worry about it lass.' The same fucking guy shows up a few weeks later, and actually cuts me, almost throws my arm out of it's socket and still I need to 'earn the truth.' What more do I have to fucking do? You keep me under fucking lock and key and I'm sick of it! I want answers!"

"Too fuckin' bad! Ye don't get ta know, cuz I don't think yer ready to know! Ye can't just walk inta dis and expect ta be brought right up ta fuckin date!" He apparently had no problem fighting with me, and the angrier he got, the more prominent his accent became. I was having difficulty understanding him.

"He cut me!"

"He shot Connor! Ye don't see him bitchin!"

"No, but he wouldn't be would he? He knows what the fuck's going on!" I screamed back at Murphy. God he was so infuriating sometimes! Like a fucking teenager! He made me literally want to rip my hair out. Or set him on fire.

I was liking the second option.

"Goddamnit Blaine! Just let it fuckin' go. We ain't gonna tell ye. So just fuckin move on would ye?" Murphy growled. I popped my wrist and pushed past him towards the car.

I was so done with their shit.

Our day didn't improve much from there. When we got back to the apartment/my jail cell, I took a shower, then pulled on some pjs, my bloodstained, but scrubbed rubber bracelets. And laid on my bed.

_This sucks_ was all that ran through my head. I didn't like confrontation, and Murphy seemed to be a master at it. I just wanted the truth, then we could all move on. But apparently, I hadn't earned it yet.

I wish he would've told me how I could earn it! That would be nice.

Instead, we were as spread out in this small space as we could possibly be, avoiding each other. Happy Halloween to us. I couldn't stand it anymore. I walked out of my room and towards the itty-bitty TV and grabbed the remote. Halloween meant only one thing to me. Scary movies. And I was not disappointed! The Strangers was on. Nothing scared me more then people in masks, it was horrifying!

I sat, curled up in a little ball on the couch, and pretty soon, Connor and Murphy show, and they each take a side of me. Connor on the left, Murphy on the right. I want to say sorry, but I realize that we've come to the point where, I don't have too. Just like they don't have to. I can just see it in their eyes.

Holy shit, I'm becoming one of them.

_No dumbshit,_ my inner voice sighed. _You're just family._ oh, well that was a little less terrifying. Actually, that was awesome.

Murphy popped the top of a beer and took a pull. He was passing it to Connor when I grabbed it form them. Shit, the two of them pounced on me like a fucking tiger.

"Ye can't drink!" Murphy chided me, pulling the beer back.

"Why not?"

"Yer only 18!" Connor got involved. I rolled my eyes.

"And how old where you guys when you started dating?" they looked at each other.

"Dat's not da point!" Murphy decided. "Da point is dat, yer not twenty-one. So you ain't drinking." they put their metaphorical feet down. I smirked.

"Awh, look at you two, being all fatherly and what not." I cooed. They turned bright red and glared at me.

_Blaine-2 Boyos-0_ I added another score to my mental checklist and continued to watch the movie. Connor regarded the movie with a bit of smugness, as if it was embarrassing itself trying to scare him. Murphy on the other hand looked paler then a ghost.

"You alright Murphy?" I asked. He mumbled something under his breath. Connor rolled his eyes. "Wait, what'd I miss."

"He's still hung up on his _bean sídhe_." Connor laughed. Murphy turned bright red.

"What's a Banshee?" I asked, rolling the unfamiliar word around on my tongue.

"Old ghost story, say dat if ye hear da bean sídhe wailing, yer death's close at hand. Murphy swore dat he heard her when we were kids."

"You saw a ghost?"

"Ye don't see her," he explained. "Ye hear her, and aye. I swear I did. Scared da shit out of me."

"Yer damn right it did, fer da next two months after dat, I'd wake up and you were in my bed." Connor snorted. "Fuckin scaredy cat."

"Fuck you! If ye had heard her, ye wouldn't be laughing!"

"Murphy ye ain't dead. She obviously wasn't comin fer ye."

"Says who?" he challenged his brother.

I tried to hold in my laughter, but I wasn't doing a very good job. I didn't wanna laugh at Murphy…but I also was having issues fighting the mental picture of Connor waking up and Murphy holding onto him like a teddy bear. The cuteness was overpowering me, I had to get out.

"Hey, boyos."

"Aye lass?"

"What's wrong with us. It's Halloween, and we don't have any candy. Don't you think that's a little fucked up?"

"No?"

"Aye, 'sides, we have da chocolate coins."

"No, I'm talking real, legit American candy. The kind that makes you sick just looking at it." I smiled. "How about I go grab some? Trick or treat!"

"No." they answered at the same time.

"I'm not a puppy boyos! I need to be let out into the open! Seriously, even the hospital gave me a garden to roam through." I pleaded. The boys stayed strong. I stuck out my lower lip, quivering it slightly, and widened my brown eyes. They winced, their resolve breaking.

"Fine." Connor sighed, breaking first. I pumped my fists in the air. You gotta love the small victories. "But, ye can only go to da convenience store down da street. No detours, no nothing. Understood?" he ordered me. I bit back a smile.

"Yes big brother." I snickered. He gave a small smile and handed me ten bucks. I threw on my grey sweatshirt and some jeans and waved goodbye.

"Ten minutes or yer ass is grass!" Murphy called behind me. I smiled. Awh, they were so cute when they thought they were in charge. I clomped down the few flights of stairs to the landing, Murphy's shower song stuck in my head. It was so damn catchy.

So you know in scary movies, how there's always that one person who yells 'RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN' right before something horrid happens to the unsuspecting teenager? I wish I had one of those.

The next thing I remember is being grabbed from behind, and a large hand covering my mouth. I tried to fight against the hold, but I could only assume it was the big guy again, and it looked like he had brought some friends. Coming out from who knows where was a skinny looking fellow, who had a smile scar from ear to fucking ear. I started shaking an the man holding me laughed. They threw me on the ground, was it bad that I was becoming used to this? The guy with the smile gripped my wrists, while the huge guy held down my legs. I struggled, but it was no use. Biology was against me. These were two full grown me. And I was a teenage girl. Not to mention I have very little experience fighting or anything like that.

"'Ello luv." I shivered, that voice was terrifying. I lifted my head up to try and find the source, only to have my head smacked back against the ground, hard. Dirt sprinkled on to my face and I groaned. He was pressing my head down with his foot… "'Aving a good 'Alloween?"

"What is this?"

"No worries there, we aren't planning on killin you. Just trying to send a message." he patted my head with his shoe and I growled. His accent wasn't musical like my boyos. It was just, well, creepy. Like Harry Potter on cocaine.

"What fucking message!" I was so sick of not knowing what was going on! The Brit just laughed and I felt him straddle my lower back. "You'll see." he assured me. I heard the sound of a switchblade, not unlike my own and I swallowed hard. He tore through my sweatshirt, tank top and bra. Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!

"Now, you might feel a slight tug." he chuckled menacingly, and I felt the cold of the blade being pressed against my skin.

"Fuucyou!" I hissed through gnashed teeth, the pain unbearable, but I knew if I screamed, there was a chance that some poor soul would come investigate, and probably end up getting hurt.

My karma sucked as it was obviously.

As bad as it hurt, this idiot obviously didn't know as much as the big mother fucker did. I was insane. I was used to how this felt. I could control it. I just squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that it would end sooner rather then later. But, the Brit didn't seem to like that idea.

"If you don't fucking scream, I will kill you." he whispered. I just clenched my jaw tighter. No he wouldn't. or he would've done that already. Bluff. He growled. "I will go door to door, and slit every throat until I find them." he promised. That got my attention. I still shook my head. He slammed his fist against my head.

Did you know that you actually see stars before you pass out?

News to me.

*Murphy*

Connor glared at my shaking leg. I ignored him as I brought my thumb, and my cigarette up to my mouth at the same time. Oh shit, this was a conundrum. I needed the smoke, and my need to continue that bad habit were both overwhelming, I could feel Connor staring at me in amusement as I tried to decided what to do.

My oldest, worst habit won out. I slipped my nail into my mouth and bit down. Connor growled and pulled my hand out of my mouth, like he always does when he catches me doing this.

"Calm the fuck down alright?" he sighed. "She's only been gone five minutes."

"Aye, but each time we let her off the leash, she goes and gets inta da neighbor's yard."

"Christ, she really is a puppy."

"I'm serious Connor, her track record sucks."

"I know Murphy, but what are we supposed to do about it? Lock her in her room? She's not our fucking kid. We can't do dat."

"I know dat, but still…" I trailed off, not really sure where I was going with that. Christ is this what having a kid was like? Stressful as all hell? Made me reaffirm in my decision that relationships were worthless. Nothing but trouble, and stress, and other terrible things. Kids too, so fuckin permanent. T'was ridiculous.

I jumped off the couch, nearly causing my brother, who was watching the movie intently, to piss himself. He swore as I reached for my jacket.

"What are ye doing?"

"Got a really bad feelin Conn." I told him, pulling my coat over my body. "I gotta go make sure I'm wrong." Connor sighed and got up, stretching out his shoulder.

"Alright Macho Murph, let's go make sure yer woman's intuition isn't just on it's fuckin period." He snickered. I cuffed him upside the head and we headed out the door. Woman's intuition my ass. Everyone had gut feelings.

We clomped down the stairs, every floor of our building was filled with trick or treaters, screamin the greeting at the top of their lungs. I shivered, I fucking hated Halloween. T'was a God-awful holiday.

We were about to hit the landing when the coppery smell of blood assaulted my senses. Connor tensed up next to my and I felt my stomach lurch.

_Oh God please no_ I prayed as me and Connor dropped the fun, and the hardness that comes with being in the Saint state of mind took over.

First glace: As Rocco would say "What the fucking-how the fuck-how did those fuckings fucks fuck!"

Blaine's body was thrown onto the ground like a rag doll. Her shirt had been ripped to shreds, and she had blood running down the side of her face and pouring down her back. Connor nudged me, and I felt movement in my body again. We dropped to our knees in the puddle of blood and I looked for anything I could use to stop the bleeding. Connor handed me parts of her grey sweatshirt, but before I could apply pressure, something caught my eye.

There were two pennies on Blaine's back.

Connor immediately grabbed them, and pushed the pooled blood off her back. I felt rage, hot and slimy rush through my body. They had carved a frowny face, with Xs for eyes on her back. And put the pennies on it. It was the fucking Richardson's. I clenched my teeth and growled. Connor continued to push the blood off her back, his look identical to my own. There was fucking more.

_Job 1:6 _was shakily carved into the area of her shoulder blades. Job 1:6...shit what was that again?

"One day the angels came to present themselves to the Lord, and Satan also came with them." Connor spoke my answer. Shit that was right, but what the fuck did that have to do with anything. "What the hell?" he looked at me.

"We'll have ta figure it out later, right now, we gotta get her fuckin somewhere," I told him, trying to figure out how to do this, while still maintaining her modesty, and causing her the least amount of pain.

Connor swore and started to flip Blaine over, she hissed in pain, but Connor kept going. I helped him ease her to her back and he took her in his arms. I glanced around, making sure there wouldn't be any witnesses to what had happened. It was fucking ballsy of them, I'll give them that. Right in the fucking open.

They were going to regret this.

"Come on!" Connor hissed. "We need ta get some shit, and get the fuck out of here." I followed him up the flights of stairs, and we busted into our apartment. I cleared off the table and he laid Blaine stomach down. While he went to rapid fire pack out shit, I was pressing rags against her back.

"Think the iron will cover it?" I called.

"Fuck! She's only fucking 18, it might fucking screw her up! And it isn't as if it's one fuckin hole either, she's got a fucking picture carved into her!"

"Then what the fuck do we do?"

"I don't fucking know! Call Smecker!" he ordered me, walking into the kitchen with familiar looking black bags. Fucking A! I knew what I was going to do. I grabbed one of the bags.

"C-Connor…Murphy?" Blaine croaked from the table. We rushed over there.

"Aye?" She shakily lifted her head.

"Have I earned the truth yet?"

**So, not my best work, but hey, if you wanna yell at me for it, just click that little button and review away. it will still proabaly make my day. on the plus side, the next chapter (which will be kick ass, i promise) will be up tomorrow :D soooo see you then! *Hearts!* Eris**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: Well, lookit that Eris is a dirty dirty liar...lol. anyways sorry that i couldn't get this to you yesterday...i ran into some trouble. anyways, here it is! chapter 11, and let me know if you guys think it's working, if it flows okay. things like that! and am i doing Smecker justice? i'm really worried about that. **

**Disclaimer!: i don't own BDS, or the song Yellow Butterfly, by meg and dia, which i based Blaine's past off of. **

**Special!Dislcaimer: i don't own Ransom, who is mentioned below, he belongs to KZOMBI3, who's also got a BDS fanfic out there, "Pog mo thoin!" it's amazing, and you should totally check it out. i mean, it's honest to God one of the funniest things i've ever read. thanks KZOMBI3 for letting me play with ransom! **

Chapter 11: The Twins, The Teen, and The Truth

*Connor*

"Ow, fuck!" I mumbled as my lolling head smacked hard against the side of Smecker's passenger seat window. He laughed under his breath. Glad he thought it was funny.

Shit I was wiped out. Last night couldn't have been any harder to deal with.

"_What the fuck do we do now?" I asked Murphy, head reeling from the smell of the blood in our apartment. How many lives have I taken, and I still hate the smell of blood? Murphy was attacking his nails like a fat woman would a piece of cake. _

"_I have a plan," he started "But I don't think yer goin ta like it."_

"_Don't really have many choices right now do we?"_

"_No, suppose not. Tina told me where I can find a few of dese Richardson fuckers, and I've checked it out a few times, and sure enough, there's always at least one dere. You can take Blaine and get somewhere safe, and I'll have a chat with a Richardson."_

"_Yer right, I fucking hate dat idea." I growled. "Splittin up is da worst possible scenario ye could've thrown out dere."_

"_Actually, I do believe it's our only fuckin choice. Or should we leave Blaine here why you and me go do dis, on yer fucked up leg?"_

"_Dere's nothing wrong wit me leg!"_

"_Prove it! Get Blain and yerself ta Tina's. She said if we needed help, she'd help us out. So get the fuck over there." Murphy ordered me. He fucking ordered me. _

"_Don't ye think she'll wonder why I'm showing up on her doorstep nearing two in da morning, with a mutilated teenager?"_

"_Actually no, she'll invite ye in, and she won't ask a single question." he told me. He fingered the strap of the duffle bag that was over his shoulder._

"_I don't like this Murphy."_

"_Aye, I'm not a fan of it meself, but we need answers. And tis da only way I can think ta get them." he turned and walked from me, stopping at the door to grab his rosary, then he walked out. _

_Fuck a duck stuck in muck!_

_I turned my attention back towards Blaine, who was unconscious her back still slowly bleeding. I grabbed some rags and pressed them against the cuts, I had to wait until I stanched the bleeding to move her. My other had was busy plugging Smecker's number into the cell phone. _

Murphy's prediction had been spot on, when Tina had answered the door, her eyes were huge and shock was in all her features, but she just moved aside and let me come in. When I had semi-explained the situation, she had just nodded and lead me to one of the two rooms in her apartment, and laid Blaine down of the bed.

"_She's gonna need stitches." Tina had told me, staring at the words on her back. "And soon, before they get infected."_

So, after asking Smecker if he knew how to get stitches, off the books of course, without having to go near a hospital, he grimaced. But lead me to his car.

"Where we goin?" I yawned, trying to keep my eyes open. It was almost four in the morning, and my body was pissed that I was keeping it going.

"I'm going to cash in an IOU from a friend. Might be able to help us." he answered, maneuvering through the empty streets.

"Ye have friends like dat?"

"Not exactly a friend."

"Huh?" I asked. Then he pulled up to park, and I looked out the window. "Ah, gotcha."

We walked into the building, which was admittedly much creepier then it was in the daytime, until we found the door that reminded me of the door to a meat locker. Smecker knocked a few times and we heard a muffled answer. Smecker opened the door and lead me inside first, puss.

"Hey Smecker," Mika was looking behind her shoulder, her body facing a table, and I could see the blue-tinted feet on the far end. I shivered. "And, Connor right?" she smiled, looking at me. I smiled back.

"Aye, nice ta see ye lass."

"So Smecker, I'm glad you're here, although confused. How did you get here so fast. I just put in my request to talk to you, like twenty minutes ago."

"Talk to me? What for?"

"This." she stepped away from a table, to revel a man with a scar on his face that stretched from one ear, through his mouth, to the other ear. And with his eyes blown out of his face. I'm pretty sure I turned about as pale as humanly possible, and Smecker glanced from the body to me.

"What else did you find?" he asked.

"Well, CSU thought it might be a copy-cat, since they couldn't find any pennies, but the pennies are right here." She handed Smecker a dish, with two pennies sitting in jellified blood. I was glad I hadn't eaten in the last six hours. "Turns out, they were hidden in the sockets, stuck on a few pieces of shattered skull. Weird huh?"

"Very weird." Smecker agreed. He looked about as good as me. "So, it was the Saints then?"

"Actually, no I don't think so." she responded again. "See, with the Saints, there's gun A and gun B right? And the bullets crisscross in the skull, come out opposite eyes right?" She received a nod from Smecker, and I had to stop myself from nodding. "But with this one, bullets A and B went straight trough. So I think you have someone trying to get away with murder here. Everything else is perfect though. Right down to the pennies. Maybe your boys down at SBPD are letting too much slip to their press buddies." she pulled off her gloves with a sickening snap, and me and Smecker both jumped. She gave us that sweet as sugar look again. "And since there's no way you got my request, what did you come here at four in the morning to talk about. And with your life partner no less."

"I ain't his fucki-"

"Now now sweetie, no need to get upset." Smecker interrupted me. I glared at him, but he ignored me, choosing to focus on the small Asian-esque woman in front of him. "I need to cash in my IOU."

"Now? I get off in like twenty minutes. Can it wait?" she asked. Me and Smecker looked at each other.

"It's kinda an emergency." I told her, scratchin my head. Her green orbs narrowed behind her glasses.

"What exactly do I have to do?" she asked.

"Come with us and you'll see." Smecker told her.

"WHAT? I'M NOT DOIN THAT!" Mika yelled at Smecker. We'd gotten her to come to Tina's place with us on curiosity alone, however once we explained that we wanted her to stitch up a girl's back…well…she didn't take it so well.

"Come on Mika, it's not that hard." Smecker sighed.

"Then you do it!"

"What's da big deal?" I asked. She turned on me, eyes on fire. _Goddmanit. I'm fucking havin a Murphy's Law day it looks like._ I thought to myself.

"The big is, one, I'm just an intern. I'm not technically a doctor yet. And if I do this and something goes horribly wrong, poof, there goes almost seven years of med school. And two, she's not dead. She's alive. I don't work with the living." she reached for her bag and pulled out some thread at a needle. "See that thread? It's not the kind they use at the hospital, because that kind is for holding skin together. Mine's thick, because it's used for sewing muscles back together. The stitches will probably hurt-"

"Da infection'll be a wee bit worse den a few stitches!" I argued back. She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Who is she anyways?"

"Me little sister." I answered. "Please, lass." I whispered the last part, she growled, but walked towards Blaine and pulled up a stool. Her eyes scanned Blaine's back. Smecker opted to leave the room then, I wish I could, but I didn't wanna leave Blaine here, or Mika alone for that matter.

"What happened to her?" Mika asked, pulling out a long line of thread. I collapsed down on the floor, and leaned against the wall.

"We're not really sure, we're thinkin some gang initiation or somethin." I answered, head lolling again. Mika snorted.

"Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because, it was Halloween. It could've been anyone, and you immediately jump to the conclusion it was a gang. That's strange."

_Oh brilliant, she's a fuckin Einstein. Just what we fuckin need. _I growled mentally.

"Strange?"

"Yeah, tells me that there's more to the story then you let on. What's the real story?" she looked at me questioningly, sterilizing her needle.

"Tis a long story."

"I got time." she smiled at me. I smiled back. The lass was kinda cute. In an Asian-doctor-schoolgirl way.

"M'fraid I don't. I'm tired as all hell. And it would probably come out in a non-coherent mix of Spanish and German. So fer yer sake, I best not."

"Avoiding the subject huh?" she asked me, as her hands started weaving through the cuts on Blaine's back. I scoffed.

"Why didn't ye become a cop?"

"Pays more to be a doctor, besides, there's no way my _Otosan_ would've paid for police academy." she laughed. Huh, so she was Japanese. Well, partly at least.

"Doctor run in da family?"

"Either a doctor like Dad, or a hippie like Mom. I opted for the higher paying of the two." she smiled, then looked at me. "You're good at that"

"What?" I asked, the picture of innocence.

"Twisting the subject around. Controlling the conversation."

"Yer damn hard ta trick."

"Yeah, I know." She smiled. "So, full story?"

"How about I tell ye da story later today? Let me buy ye a drink?" I asked. She smirked.

"You want to cheat on Smecker with me?"

"I'm not his fuckin life partner or whatever!" I argued, she snickered.

"I think he likes you."

"I really don't think he does."

"Well, to each his own then." she smiled at me. I narrowed my eyes.

"You're good at it too."

"What?" she looked at me again, picture perfect innocence.

"Controlling da conversation. You're pretty good yerself." I responded. She winked at me.

"I can't tonight, I have to catch up on my sleep, because I have work tomorrow. But Tuesdays, I don't work Tuesdays. Sound good?"

"Aye, do ye know where McGinty's is?" I questioned. She raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look like I spend a lot of time in Irish bars?"

"Good point, can I pick ye up at da workplace?"

"Sure."

"…Outside right?" I added. She laughed.

"Yeah, you don't have to see anymore bodies." she answered, still laughing. I sighed in relief.

"Seven?"

"Sure."

"Den it's a date." I smiled. She smiled back.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Smecker."

*Murphy*

I yawned and jogged up the stairs towards Tina's apartment. I'd hoped that my brother had been smart enough to do what I told him and go to Tina's in the first place. I readjusted the duffle bag full of my pennies, guns, casings and bloody clothes. Because I hadn't been in very sound mind last night, I hadn't grabbed an extra pair. So I had run back to the apartment and grabbed the first two things I could, and a bottle of whiskey, because me and Connor needed a fucking break. Turns out I grabbed a white shirt, and basketball shorts. I was freezing.

The closer I got to Tina's door, the more prominent the smell of incense became. I would have hated living in this building, but from what I could remember, everyone here was either an artist, Egyptian immigrant or dug addict. Tina's kind of people. I rounded the corner to her apartment and almost ran Smecker over. I fell, landing on my ass, while he just side-stepped me and smirked.

"Love the new look there, Shaq. I think you should keep it."

"Awh fuck yerself. So Connor made it here alright?"

"Yeah."

"And what about Blaine, is she okay?"

"She's being stitched up right now."

"Thank God." I mumbled, and got up. "Thanks for yer help Smecker. Lord knows we need it." Smecker nodded.

"Anytime, but let's try and keep it to a minimum, don't need anyone getting suspicious."

"Agreed." I shook his hand and kept moving. I was floored again when I saw Tina leaning against her door frame, and unlit smoke and lighter in her hand. I became a little jealous when I saw the lighter. It was silver and had an Ankh engraved into it. I still had the cheap thing with the cherries on it. Tina stared intently at the smoke, mumbling to herself.

"Stupid…..need…damn…." She muttered, completely unaware that I was standing there.

"Still talking to yerself dere Tina?" I broke her concentration and she turned a little red.

"Old habits die hard."

"Aye." I nodded, pulling out a smoke of my own. Tina immediately tossed me her lighter as she had done before, then looked confused when the lighter left her hands. I was just grateful I didn't have to pull out my gay one. "Apparently, dey die really hard." I half mumbled, her eyes cut to me. Shit her eyes always tweaked me out. They were dark brown, almost black really, and her makeup made them more dramatic. She used dat same eyeliner stuff dat the real ancient lasses used, Coal or Khol or something like dat. And she added gold shimmer or something to the lids. Her seven bangles twinkled as her hands moved to her hips.

"And that means?"

"Some die harder den others is all." I shrugged and tossed her back her lighter. My inner voice was telling me not to be an asshole, but I honest to God couldn't stop myself. It was the only way I could face her…especially seeing how we had ended.

"Really?"

"Aye, like, I can't quit smoking if me brother's life depended on it, and ye won't stop talkin' to yerself as long as ye live." I blew out smoke.

"You're so sure of that?"

"I know ye Tina." I answered. She scoffed, but let it drop.

"Where were you? It's like almost seven a.m."

"Had something I had to do afterwards."

"Go to church?" she asked. This time my eyes cut to her. A perfect sneer contorted her features.

"I know you Murphy."

"Yeah right." I muttered. She snickered.

"Want me to take a crack at it? Hmmm you went to church, because you had to have the guilt of whatever you did washed away before you faced the bad situation, because you're still a firm believer in karma. But more of the reason is, you didn't want to face this, because it scares you. Not knowing scares you, and not bein able to control scares you. Buuuuuuuuut-" she stretched her word out. "The intensity of your emotions right now scare you the most. So you ran and hide." I clenched my jaw and mustered up a glare. Tina gave me a fabulous shit-eating-smirk.

"Can I get past ye?" I mumbled. She let out a half laugh.

"Guess old habits really do die hard." but she got out my way, and let me pass. I pushed into the apartment, and found Connor with his leg up on Tina's coffee table. He looked at me and glared.

"Next time, ye have ta drag the mutilated lass 'cross town, ye have ta go ta the morgue at four in da morning, and ye have ta deal with being labeled Smecker's 'life partner'" he growled at me. "And what the fuck, dat's my shirt! Ye little bastard." he put his hands over his eyes. "Yer a leech ye are." he went to glare at me again, and I held of the bottle of whiskey. A smile instantly crossed his face.

"Who do ye love?" I asked him.

"Why, I never said I stopped lovin ye little brother, jus that yer a little bastardly leech." he responded. I cuffed his head, and took a swig. He followed suit.

"What about yer pain pills."

"Haven't had the chance ta take one taday. So I figgr a little whisky'll do da trick." he smiled and took another pull, then handed it back to me.

The shit burnt, but it warmed up my body, which was freezing. Connor and I passed it back until the thing was nearly gone. So were we, so we didn't hear the footsteps.

Blaine staggered over too us, looking a lot like one of the zombies from a TV movie. Her hair was matted with blood, and there was dried blood on her face and arms. Her eyes were cold and hard.

I thought I was going to piss myself.

She flopped down in a chair across from us, wrapping the blanket around herself and gestured for the bottle. Connor gave it to her immediately. She took two swallows before looking at us.

"So," she croaked, her voice crackling. "What the fuck was that?"

*Blaine*

I was in a horrible mood, but I sure as hell had the right to be. I was going to get answers now, even if it killed me. Actually, I wanted to cry, but that could wait until I knew why I was crying. I glared at the two of them, who looked at each other.

"Truth boyos." I spat. "Now." Connor bowed his head, but Murphy bristled.

"Ye go first."

"Excuse me?" I growled. He grabbed the bottle from me and took a drink.

"Ye. Go. First." he stated as if I were retarded.

"What are you talking about?"

"Yer lyin ta us too." he pointed at me, then handed Connor the bottle.

"Am I?"

"Aye, ye won't tell us why you were in the hospital in da first place."

"Yes I did."

"Aye, ye attempted suicide, but ye said ye weren't tryin ta kill yerself. But dat's a lie." Connor finally joined in. "Dere's three of those scars. One maybe you could've pulled off as an accident. But not all three." I felt my body go rigid with fear.

"My lie didn't get you cut up like a fucking piece of meat."

"Ye admit it's a lie den?"

"Sure. Whatever."

"Den how can we trust ye, if ye don't trust us?" Connor asked, handing me the bottle. I groaned.

"Fine, why don't we do this? We'll play 'Tell Your Deep Dark Secret To The Group'" I hissed. "Sound fun?" they looked at each other.

"Ye still go first."

"Oh fuck no. You go now." I growled. Apparently I must've looked really scary, because they winced, and nodded.

"Fine," Connor sighed, trying to gather his wits or something. "Alright, do ye know those people on the news…da ones who….uhhh….."

"Kill people." Murphy rolled his eyes. "The ones who kill people."

_Whoa whoa whoa….kill people_ I just narrowed my eyes at them.

"The Saints?" Murphy held up a hand. "Wasted 22 criminals, and Yakavetta at his own trial?"

"Holy….fucking…shit." I whispered as I realized what they were telling me.

They were the Saints.

But that couldn't be possible, not my boyos. My boyos were idiots, they liked their coffee black, only ordered half cheese, half pepperoni, couldn't clean for shit. They weren't killers…they couldn't be killers.

"She's taking it better den Rocco" Connor whispered to Murphy. Murphy nodded. I jumped out of my chair.

"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS THIS? YOU CHOOSE TO HIDE THIS FROM ME? THIS LITTLE PIECE OF INFORMATION! CHRIST ALMIGHTY! YOU'RE FUCKING KILLERS, AND YOU DON'T TELL ME? JESUS! I FUCKING RISKED MY ASS FOR THE TWO OF YOU! I MEAN, CONNOR, YOU DIDN'T MENTION THIS AT ALL ON YOUR LOOPY PILLS! YOU TELL ME EVERYTHING FROM YOUR FIST TIME TO THE FACT THAT YOU HAD A THING FOR A GUY NAMED RANSOM!"

Connor couldn't have turned a darker red, then if I had painted his face that color.

"Oh I fuckin knew!" Murphy cried.

"Everyone's fuckin attackin my sexuality today." he grumbled. "I'm fucking sick of it."

I flopped back down in my chair, my back unwilling to hold me up any longer. I stared at the two of them. They were killers. That wasn't possible. Not just killers either, like…seriously messed up religion killers.

"Lass?" I snapped back into focus, and saw Connor and Murphy staring at me. "We're still us Blainey."

"Who attacked me?" I asked. They sighed.

"We're honestly not sure."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Aye, we think it might me a gang, but we're not sure." Connor nodded. "We're tryin to figure it out."

"What did they carve on my back?"

"A bible verse, and a frowny face."

"Wow." I whispered. It was the only thing my mind could form at the moment. I took another drink. "Alright then, your turn." I looked at them.

"Why'd ye do it?" Connor asked.

"And why don't ye believe in God?" Murphy threw in.

Hooooooooo boy.

"Well, hmmm. Lets see, five years ago, I went with my little sister to the river. She was my step dad's daughter, but I loved her to death. She was five, and I was thirteen. She begged me to go. I mean, puppy dog face, whole kit and kabootle. So I took her, then she begged me to go look for skipping rocks by the water. So I let her do that too. I got cold, cuz it was September. So I turned around to grab my jacket. And I heard her scream. So I turned around, and the current had just freaking picked up all of a sudden, and it pulled her in. I ran in after her, and I swam for it, but I couldn't grab her. I tried so hard. I can still see her face sink beneath the waves." I took a deep breath, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. "By the time I got her back to shore, she was…gone. So gone. She wouldn't start breathing again. By that time, someone had seen and called 911, so we were carted onto an ambulance and rushed to the hospital. My mom and step dad met me there. Oh God it was awful, my mother dropped to the floor, sobbing, and my step dad, he was just, vacant. Empty. He loved his little girl so much. She was our princess.

"Time passed, and every year, my mom's burden lessened a little, and she slowly got back to normal, and Ian, my step dad, he seemed to be okay. But I wasn't getting better. I still cried every night. I felt so terrible, so guilty. Then, like five years later, I didn't cry. I couldn't cry. I felt even guiltier then before. So I took a razor to my wrist. A razor to my wrist for each unshed tear. That was my policy. My mom had no clue I'd started doing that, but I think Ian did. He didn't like encourage me or anything, but he didn't stop me either. So I don't know. Maybe he didn't have a clue. But I kept that up for almost two months before my mom got wise, she put me on some anti-depressants.

"Those made it so much worse, it was like swimming in cement, and I hated myself on them. More the I ever let on. I was ashamed of what I'd done. I'd killed my sister. I believed that. I got worse, I was given more pills. I think that's what tipped me over. Because the anniversary of my sister's death. I was so sick of living, that I tried to claw out my own vein." I took a shaky breath, and held out my exposed wrist the boys. "Got pretty damn close too. But mom came in, saw the blood, Ian held me down, and I was sent out to the Boston clinic." I shook my head. "And for the whole, not believing in God thing, I was mad. Were the angels that lonely? I mean, why the hell did they have to take my sister. She was fucking five. She had everything to live for. God's cruel." I snarled, animosity poisoning my every word. I had started shaking, and I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut, trying damn hard not to cry.

I felt four arms wrap me up in a hug and I leaned into them. Screw me over or not, these boys were my family, and I didn't want to lose them. Killers or not, crazy or not. Hell we had that in common it would appear. We spent a few beats in comfortable silence.

"Fuckin' Ransom" Murphy snickered.

"Shut it!" Connor ordered.

*Boss*

The boss sat has his desk, comtemplating his next step.

Something had gone wrong, the Saints had gotten one of their own. Somehow. Where were they getting their information? James was dead, Special Agent Smecker was in the dark. It didn't make any sense at all. He scratched his tattoed neck as Tank entered his office.

"We found something you might want to see." Tank handed boss a neatly folded piece of paper. "We found it next to Johnny's body. Before the police arrived."

So, the Saints had killed Johnny. Actually that was a relief. Johnny was as lower status as they could get. Apparently their information wasn't as good as he had originally thought.

But they had found them, and that stiill irked the Boss. He couldn't have his operation running in fear at their own shadow. If word of the Saints got out, they would be dropping what they had and bolting it back to England.

And he knew of some business partners that would be very pissed if they didn't get their drugs on time.

""Ave we found them yet?" Boss asked Tank, who merely shook his head.

"They've gone off the map. They vacated their apartment early this morning, and we can't find them."

"You'd better look 'arder. I don't want those two out of our sights for too long. That could be dangerous for us."

"I agree, I'll bring in Chelsea, maybe she can hunt them down. She has a knack for finding things that want to stay lost."

"That she does mate." Boss nodded. "Go to it then."

"Yes Boss." Tank headed toward the door.

"Wait, it's November first, right?" Boss asked, stopping Tank.

"Yes sir."

"Just asking." The Boss sighed. Tank continued out the door.

The Boss was beyond irked now. He couldn't decided if he should laugh or kill someone. All he knew in that instant was, A-he was going to kill the Saints, and B-He was going to rip them apart piece by piece first. He wanted them to beg him to kill them, beg him to end their lives.

And he knew just the way to do it.

All he had to do was find them first.

He set down the note on his desk.

The note, which read : _"Happy All Saints Day."_


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: hey! so because my last few chapters were depressing, i give you something fun, we have blaine sneaking around, muprhy being a diva, and connor on a date! and you get a very in depth look at the women of this story! very valentines day feel! enjoy! please review :DDD **

**Disclaimer!: i don't own BDS, or anything else, like i think the egyptian gods belong to egypt. and irish toasts belong to the drunks!**

Chapter Twelve: Toasts, Trysts and Ticked

*Blaine*

Again, I found myself being pushed up against the wall, cold hands sitting on my hips, sending goosebumps up my sides.

I smirked.

"Ted, your hands are freezing." I whispered in his ear, his only response was to slide them a little more up my shirt.

"Then I warm them up." he responded, pushing out bodies closer together, and connecting our mouths at the same time. I wrapped my arm around his neck, deepening the kiss as much as I could. His tongue made it's way towards mine, when horn echoed through the alley we were hidden in, and Ted jumped like twelve feet in the air. "SHIT!" he cried, jumping away from me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, confused. Ted was my boyfriend, had been for almost four months. A'course relationships between the Kookoo kids wasn't allowed, so we'd had to sneak around at the hospital. Things got a little dicey near the end though. It was a strong dissagreement between us. Read: Ted _hated_ Connor and Murphy. I couldn't understand why, not even a little. I mean, if you look past the whole 'Hey, we like to kill people in God's name, and we are Saints in every right' thing, then they're really cool guys. Never hurt me. Well, they technically never hurt me, but Ted didn't like me hanging out with them. Then after that whole exchange with the mountain man in the garden.

Boy, I'd never seen him so mad.

So we'd gotten into a huge fight over it, and Ted told me that, and I quote, 'Well, I don't give a fuck what you do Blaine, you wanna jump off the metaphorical bridge, go the fuck for it.' Yeah, my boyfriend's a charmer.

We broke out that night, so for all he knew, I had literally jumped off a bridge. Which is why when by some amazing stroke of luck (Not divine intervention, as Murphy would've said) he'd entered the same diner that me and the boyos were in.

"Man, that was close." he shook his head.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, still confused as to why he'd jumped away from me. Half because I had loved what we were doing, half because it was freezing outside and he was keeping me warm.

"I thought it was your twins." He muttered, scanning the alley. I rolled my eyes.

"And if it was?"

"Then, I would've fucking run like hell."

"What? Why would you do that?" he gave me a look that completely screamed 'Oh Really?' in fact, I'd seen his Uncle give Connor and Murphy that face before. Like Uncle like nephew I guess. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to me. "What are you afraid of?"

"Them ripping me apart piece by piece."

"And they would do that…why?"

"Because they claimed you as like their little sister or whatever. I mean, one of them was shot three times! At once! That's like, a third as many times as Fiddy cent was shot!"

_More, definetly more then fiddy cent_ I thought to myself briefly.

"So?" I laughed "Connor and Murphy are really cool."

"Yeah? I'm really cool too, and if someone had his hands all over my little sister, I'd rip his balls off first, as questions later." he explained. "And, there's two of them."

"At least they're not triplets." I smiled wide, trying to cheer him up. He gave a little, half sigh, half laugh, half cry. (Yeah…three halves, I suck at math!)

"So not helping Blaine." he laughed. I just rolled my eyes and pulled his mouth back towards mine. He gave me what I wanted. He always did. Looping his fingers through my belt loops, he pressed us closer together and moved his lips from mine, to my neck. He played around there a little while before he hit a spot that made me squeak. He snickered and went back to that spot. My head leaned against that wall as he attacked me. Mother fucker.

I trailed my fingers down his chest, and he jerked. I laughed, he was just as fallible as me. I slipped my hands up his shirt, and ran my fingers over his scar. He hissed and I smirked. Scars turned me the fuck on! He grabbed my wrist, and kissed my scars, his teeth grazing them.

BLEEP! Ted's cell phone beeped in his pocket, scaring the shit out of both of us. He growled and let go of me.

"Better get back to your keepers." he sighed, pressing a kiss against my lips. I groaned.

"I wish they'd let me outside. That way we could hang out more."

"Why won't they let you outside?" he asked, confused. I waved my hand.

"Because they're overprotective bastards-" I stopped midsentence. "-Oh, I see where you're coming from now dear." I smiled and pressed another kiss on his lips. He laughed and shook his head.

"See you soon love."

"Bye!" I smiled, and bounded up the stairs to Tina's apartment. I cracked the door open, and saw Connor with Murphy in a headlock. Thank God, maybe I was going to be able to sneak past them. I tip toed past their wrestling match, praying to make it to our shared room.

Yeah, Tina's apartment only had two rooms, so she was in hers, and me, Connor and Murphy were piling blankets on the floor in the other room, and camping out.

Just three more steps…!

"Where the fuck were ye Blaine?" Murphy's voice called to me. I froze and turned around. He was still in Connor's head lock, but they were both staring at me.

"I went out with Tina." I answered, first thing that popped into my head.

"Tina went ta work like three hours ago, when ye were sleepin." Connor informed me. Murphy smirked, waiting for the truth.

"Fine," I rolled my eyes. "I went out to bum a smoke."

"Without a lighter?"

"I bummed a light, didn't want you to catch me stealing one of yours."

"Ah, alright." Connor nodded, turning his attention back to beating the shit out of his brother. I let out a sigh of relief, and turned back towards our room.

"Hey Blaine!" Murphy called.

"Yeah?"

"Nice hickies" He and his brother howled with laughter, I turned bright red and rushed to the bathroom, sure enough, there were two or three bright red marks on my neck. The cold made them even more noticeable. I felt my heart stop.

"Ye work fast!" Connor laughed. "Three days ago ye could barely walk, now yer hookin up behind our backs."

"Tragic, innit?" Murphy snickered. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Awh leave me alone boyos." I hissed. _Blaine-2 Boyos-1_ I sighed and went to Tina's kitchen, throwing a spoon into her freezer.

"Who's da lad Blaine?"

"No one you know."

"" they whined. I felt my eye twitch. Oh man this was going to be annoying.

"Well, I can tell you that he doesn't cut open dead people." I shot back. Connor shut his mouth. Murphy snickered. "And he's not a commitaphobe either." Murphy shut up. They looked at each other, then flipped me the therapeutic finger. I smiled. "And why are you worrying about me? Don't you have a date tonight Connor?"

"Tisn't much of a date, really. More of a meeting. Ye know, ta explain, da whole situation, da ye know-"

"He rambles when he's nervous." Murphy winked at me. Man, it was too easy to flip the table on Connor.

"Connor's got a DAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAATE!" I singsong'd. He couldn't even muster up a glare, a grin split his face. "So what are ye going to wear?" I asked. He looked down at himself, his black shirt and severely ripped jeans, that was spotted with blood that might've been from a cow at the meat packing plant….or….the other.

"What's wrong with dis?"

"Everything."

*Tina*

I pushed my keys into the door and turned, the smell of my place instantly calmed me. I loved the musky sent, and the heat that was a constant. Like home. I grew up in Cairo. And I missed it. But art isn't in such a demand there, and I fell in love with Boston my first trip here.

Also, unluckily, I fell in love in Boston.

_Never trust a boy that looks as if the Gods created him!_ That was my mother's favorite saying, and I never used to believe it.

Until I met Murphy MacManus.

I must've had some seriously bad karma that needed to be paid. Seriously bad karma.

My place was quiet, good. I needed quiet.

They'd been with me for three days. And that was all it took.

Three days for me to start love Blaine. And her and Connor's frequent fighting.

Three days for me to meet Dolly, Duffy and Greenly, who came to check on the boys and Blaine.

Three days for me to get this, make shift family.

I loved it.

Only one downside.

Murphy MacManus.

He was being meaning then sin to me, so much so that I had started praying to Petbe…for revenge. I wasn't usually so mean, but he was mean to me.

He was being a diva.

Straight up, needed a snickers diva.

I walked into my room, pulling off the black skirt, and red shirt and apron that were required where I worked. I pulled on a black tank top, white short shorts, and red sock.

Seven. Always seven.

Running my fingers through my hair, and feeling the purple and blue parts give resistance I walked towards the wall where all the canvases I had were.

I felt the need for art.

Standing in front of the blank canvas, I felt lost. I'd never been blocked before.

Blocks didn't happen to me.

I grabbed a can of red paint, and stared.

Mad. I was suddenly mad.

I chucked the red paint at the canvas, and it exploded, red paint splattered all over everything. Including me. Across the canvas though, it just looked like blood.

"Damn!" I growled and grabbed the nearest can of paint, and chucked it even harder at the canvas. It exploded the way that red paint did.

It was black.

"Shit!" I hissed. I grabbed another can of paint and threw it harder then I ever had.

The white exploded across the black and red, connecting the two, making it unity. Making it perfect. I took a step back, as my heart rate calmed itself.

It was done. It was perfect.

"Well…dat's a little angrier den most of yer other stuff." the lithing voice behind me commented. I bristled and waited.

"Where's Blaine and Connor?"

"Shopping." he chuckled. "Connor's got a date."

"Date huh?" I raised an eyebrow. "You two are more different then Isis and Anubis."

Goddess of Life, God of Death.

"Aye. Where Connor hears date, I hear cauterizing." he mumbled. I rolled my eyes. "So what's with the angry paint attack?"

"What do you even care?"

"Just making conversation." he scoffed. I turned around to face him. He was sitting on my couch, staring at the canvas.

"Don't strain yourself." I muttered. "I know how hard it for you to talk to a woman who isn't taking her shirt of for you."

"Ouch," Murphy sighed. "Dat was a wee bit harsh."

"Did I lie?"

"Nope." Murphy smirked. "Ye were a lot more enjoyable when ye were strippin for me."

Ass!

"Why the hell are you even here?" I asked. He stared at me bored.

"Because, my brother would kick my ass if I left."

"Wanna know something?" I asked, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Why not?"

"I kept it." I told him. His eyes flashed.

"Did ye?"

"Yup. Not because I enjoy reading it, but because I think you were right, in what you wrote. You were right."

"Tina…"

"You were right, alright? You were right. So, you can stop being mean to me. Please. Please stop being mean to me." I sounded like a child, but maybe it would work. Murphy was quiet for a few minutes.

It was a lot easier to remember why I liked him when he shut up.

His eyes were bluer then anything I'd ever encountered, his pale skin looked like it was flawless, carved from porcelain. Beauty. Dark. Mysterious. Sinful. The boy was sinful.

It only took a year for the sin to kick in.

"It's just da way it is." he finally answered.

Alright.

Nice Tina's going to sit back now.

Bitch Tina, the show is yours.

"Do you know how mean this is? Do you understand what you showing up in my life is like? You broke me Murphy. And then a two years later, you show up. That's like, waving vicoden in the face of a recovering addict. Do you know what that's like? You're vicoden Murphy. And just because the surgeon general thinks you're the coolest thing since iced tea, but you ruin lives. Plain and simple."

Wow, that was malice-y of me.

Murphy stared at me, shock in those blue eyes.

Point me?

Then Murphy opened his mouth.

Damn.

"Ye know what Tina, vicoden isn't the problem. If it was the pill, it woudn't be ciruclatin as much as it is. No, it's da people with no self control that are the problem. People who get one hit, and they can't wait for the next one. T'would suck to live like dat. But I'm not an addict Tina, so I wouldn't know. But since I _know_ ye so well, I know yer issues with addiction probably haven't gotten any better." he snarled.

My mind went blank.

I saw it pass across his face.

Regret. Shame. Questioning.

Too far?

Hell yeah that was too far.

I just turned away from him and grabbed more paint.

It suddenly wasn't even close to being finished.

I chucked another can of paint at the canvas.

Murphy just lit another smoke.

Fucked up?

Yes.

*Mika*

I pulled the clip that held up my black hair, and watched it cascade down to just above my chest. It had curled it, so it was wavy, and it gave me a head turning look.

Not that I cared.

I readjusted my pencil straight skirt, that came up to about my hip, and I wore a white tank top under it, and a black cardigan. With the expert lining of my eyes, and the pretty pink lip gloss, and the contacts. I looked damn good.

Not that I cared.

I walked out of the locker room, pulling on my heels, and took a deep breath. Tana, my fellow intern smiled at me as she walked out of the shower, towel wrapped tightly around her.

"You look hot." she smiled at me, wringing out her highlighted blonde hair. I smiled.

"I always look hot."

"Yeah, but you look like, POW! BOOM! FOXY SHAZAM!" she laughed. I smiled.

"I just want my straight story."

"Please, you've turned down, like four guys since you got the internship, so what makes this one special?"

"It's not that I said yes to a date, it's just that, I want to know the full story." I explained to her. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, okay."

"I'm serious!"

"Me too!"

"Whatever." I grumbled, then I looked at her. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure!"

"I don't smell like formaldehyde do I?" I asked. She raised her eyebrow. "Not that I care or anything. It's just, not a smell you mix with drinking."

"Drinking huh? You going out with an Irishman?" she giggled. I looked away. Her jaw dropped. "What? Where'd you meet and Irishman?"

"Around." I looked up. She just smiled.

"It's like 7:05, you should go see if Paddy O'Shamrocks is waiting for you." Tana winked at me. I blushed, and told her I'd see her tomorrow. She waved.

"Make sure Paddy uses protection!" she called after me as I walked out. I snickered. The Irishman was not getting that far.

Not that I cared.

Sure enough, when I walked out of the MED's office, Paddy-Er, Connor was standing there, a phone pressed to his ear.

"Aye, Blaine. I get it. No! Christ lass, I'm not a heartless bastard…aye. Aye. Aye…oh hey Murphy, got any advice…." Connor chuckled. "Aye, I'll be sure ta do the exact opposite of dat….no fuck you! Ma loved me more! Yes I'm sure! She told everyone and their brother!" Connor looked behind him, and turned bright red.

I watched as he dragged his eyes from my heeled feet, over my legs, the skirt, resting on the cleavage, then finally my face. I smiled. He closed the phone.

"Lass." He smiled at me. I walked down the steps.

"Hey Connor." I gave him my best grin. "Sorry I'm late."

"If bein late means ye show up lookin like ye do, den, I'm fine wit dat" he assured me. I blushed, he offered me his arm, and I took it.

"So, can I ask ye a question?" he asked. I nodded.

"Sure, why not?"

"Just one question. Why do ye work wit da dead? I mean, it has to be like depressing ta a degree." I rolled my answer over my tongue before I answered.

"Well, it's actually less depressing then working with the living. I went to school to become a regular doctor. But my first week on, I lost six people. Not because of what I did, but because I was on-call. Six people. Saved two. It depressed the hell out of me. I'm not a fan of suspense. Life and death. The living are so completely suspenseful. But the dead. They're just that. Dead. No suspense, no tricks. By the time they get to me, there was nothing I could've done to prevent it, I can only solve it now. I've always been good at puzzles." I smiled. He nodded at my answer, apparently it appeased his curiosity. "Now, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Was it hard to sneak out of the hospital?" I asked. Connor froze mid step. I smiled sweetly.

"W-What are ye talking about?"

"Wow, lying is really not in your arsenal of skills. See, when people escape from the hospital, the authorities check the morgue first. They gave me a description, of a teenage girl, brown hair, brown eyes. About 5'4 and with three prominent scars on her left wrist. And there was also a man, blonde hair, blue eyes, about 5'11 with a semi-healed GSW to the shoulder-" I pulled my arm from Connor's and poked his shoulder. He winced. "-The chest-" I have that a little more of a forceful prodding. He groaned. "-and for the finale, the leg." I smacked his leg and he cried out, gathering the attention of some other people. He glared at me and I laughed, unable to keep a straight face. He broke down and finally laughed with me, he grabbed my hand.

"Come on lass, we're here." he told me, pulling me into a dimly lit building, filled ta the brim with drunk men. Connor made his way towards a booth in the back, and when he wasn't looking, I full on checked him out. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, and it brought out his eyes, and a pair of really dark jeans. He looked damn sexy is what he looked.

Not that I cared.

"Like what ye see?" he asked me, pulling me out of my shameless staring. I blushed, but was saved when a nice looking old man hobbled over to my corner.

"C-C-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-Connor MacManus!" the old man smiled. Connor's whole face lit up.

"Doc!" he stood up and hugged the old man. "How've ye been?"

"Things have been good. They've been good. FUCK! ASS! They b-b-b-oys have been asking about you!" he continued.

…Was no one going to mention the little outburst?

"Who's t-t-t-this?" Doc asked, looking at me. Connor smiled.

"Doc, dis is Mika, she's a lass I owed a few answers ta."

"It's lovely ta meet ye lass." Doc took one of my hands in both of his. I smiled.

"Nice to meet you too!"

"What can I g-g-g-et you kids?"

"Some black stuff and a shot fer me, and fer da lass-" Connor and Doc both looked at me.

"Captain, with a touch of coke." I smiled. Doc nodded his approval and scurried off to retrive the drinks. Connor looked at me.

"Bit harder then I expected."

"Hey, I'm Asian. I grew up with sake, I know hard drinking. I just like the Captain better." Connor opened his mouth to say something, but a huge group of people came rushing to our table.

"MacManus!" they cried. Connor looked at me apologetically. I just shrugged.

Not like I cared.

"Boys!" Connor greeted the crew. They looked at me.

"That's not Murphy…"

"Not, certainly isn't." Connor chuckled.

"MacManus is on a date!" they laughed. Connor blushed a little.

"Come on now, she's prettier den Murphy!"

"Not by much!" they howled with laughter. Connor held back one.

"What do I have ta do ta get rid of ye?"

"We just want a toast! And we'll leave you alone!"

"Alright den…" he stood up, and looked at me. "I usually do dis wit me brother, but since he's not here, you'll be his stand in. Aye?" he smiled. My stomach dropped.

"Uh…I don't know any toasts…." he rolled his eyes.

"Dat's no reason."

"I'm in a skirt."

"Dat's a better reason." he winked at me.

"Come on lass!" the crowed cheered. I realized, that I had been sucked into this. I held up my hands in defeat, and Connor jumped up on the table, and pulled me up with him.

"Here's to a long life and a merry one! A quick death and an easy one! A pretty girl and an honest one! A cold beer and another one!" Connor hollered, the pub roared with a response. My heart was beating. "Yer turn lass." he whispered in my ear. I felt shivers attack my spine.

"I really don't have one…" I told him Connor whispered something in my ear, and gestured for me to go. I took a deep breath, and faced the crowd.

"Here's to being single, drinking double, and seeing triple!" I cried. The crowd roared, and just over their yelling I heard: "That one's a keeper Connor." Connor wrapped his arm around my waist.

"I was thinking dat meself. Now be gone ye leeches. I've had enough of ye." the crowd dispersed, and Connor jumped off the table, and helped me down. I stood there, and I smiled. "What are ye thinking about?"

"This was completely different then I thought it was going to be. You threw me for a loop."

"I'm good at dat, remember?" he gave me that crazy smile.

"Yeah, I can't believe I just stood on a table, in a pub, and gave a toast." I laughed and shook my head. Connor smiled, and leaned down, and gave me a small kiss. Small as it was, I felt electricity snap through my entire body. I looked at him. "what was that for?"

"Ye were being such a good sport." he winked.

I think my heart just did a backflip.

Not that I care….awh, who am I fucking kidding?

I was starting to care.

**so, the button, it's right there, and if you reivew, i might just seriously hiccup bubbles :DDDD so do it!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note: Murphy's still a dick, Connor's got a crush! but they're putting thier chick-issues on the line to get some work done! the boondock way! And Blaine and Tina have a bitch session, because hey, she needs one. she's stuck with the most testosterone-y men on the planet!**

**Diclaimer: i don't own BDS midol or snickers!**

Chapter 13: Russian Roulette for the Boys, Home Intruders for the Girls

*Murphy*

_Up and down, up and down, up and down, keep moving_ I ordered myself as I hopped up and down outside Tina's building. I was waiting for Connor to go look for a different apartment. I couldn't live in Tina's place one more day. Not another day.

A'course, I told Connor that we were putting her in danger by staying there, and he went with that. It was kinda true. We might be vindictive towards each other, I don't want her to get hurt because of the Saints. That wouldn't be right.

"Christ Murphy," Connor yawned as he walked out of the building "Yer fuckin early riser alla sudden?"

"I've spent da last four days sleeping on da floor. I want a fucking mattress in da least." I told him, lighting two cigarettes and passing one his way.

"Aye, poor sensitive Murphy." Connor snickered. "Oh, by da way Murphy-"

"Aye?"

"When I got back from me date last night, Tina was at her sink, an empty bottle a whiskey dat wasn't ours, and tears running down her face." Connor gave me the 'big brother' look. "What the fuck did you do?"

"…So, date go well?" I asked him. He glared at me.

"Why can't ye just be nice ta the lass!"

"She-I-she started it." I mumbled. Connor growled. This whole Tina thing bothered him, because I hadn't ever fessed up to him about thing. Mostly, the reason we broke up. It was a long, painful, terrifying story.

And I had refused to talk about it the minute I had walked out of her apartment for what I thought was the last time. It might be one of two things I had never told Connor. Both had to do with lasses. So all he saw was me being a complete dick to Tina.

Which I was.

"Seriously man, how was your date?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. I eyed my brother, who had a sly grin on his face.

"T'was…fun." he answered. I elbowed him.

"Ye follow me advice?"

"Christ no, I did the exact opposite of dat. And ye know what? It turned out great."

"Details Connor!"

"Yer such a girl Murphy. And I took her ta McGinty's, she met Doc, the boys harassed her. Oh dey say hi, by da way. And dey think yer pretty." Connor winked, I blew smoke in his face. "Den, I made her jump up on a table, and she toasted the pub." I snickered. Only Connor could make a lass do that. He took a drag. "She was wearing a skirt."

"Did I ever tell ye yer me hero." I asked him. He chuckled.

"Yer da wind beneath my wings."

"Awh fuck ye. Can I ask ye a question?" I asked. A very serious look on my face. Connor stared at me.

"A'course."

"She didn't smell like da dead frogs dat we dissected in biology did she?" Connor cuffed me upside the head.

"Yer a right ass, ye know that? And no, she smelt like vanilla. Same with her lip gloss." he told me, then his eyes went wide. I smirked.

"Kissed her didja?"

"Aye."

"How many times?"

"Twice. Once in McGinty's and then again, outside her apartment building." Connor's face was turning red, and I was sure it wasn't from the cold.

"Ye planning on seein her again den?"

"Aye. I am actually." he blew out some smoke in my face. I coughed and flipped him off.

"Who's da right ass now?"

"Always gonna be ye, little brother. Always ye." he snickered, and we continued our trek towards the old neighborhood. If people were on our trail, an Irish neighborhood would be a great place to hide. We'd be hidden in plain sight.

It was weird being back here, after everything that happened. Connor and I walked past our old building, and I froze, staring at the roof.

"_I hope your conscious is clear Irishman." Chekov laughed as he pressed the barrel of his gun to my head. I closed my eyes. _

_This is how I was going to die. Alone, in a back alley. Next to a dumpster, where no one would ever find me. Connor was trapped upstairs. Then it hit me. _

_I was never going to see him again. Ever. _

_I was dead. _

'_Pray for us sinners now, at the hour of our deaths, amen…' I mentally concluded the prayer in my head. I stared down Chekov's gun, then I saw it behind me. Connor. _

_Connor holding a toilet. _

_My eyes went wide, no way. He got out?_

_Connor threw the toilet over the side of the building, his aim deadly, no matter what he's using a weapon. _

_Throwing shots back, throwing things at me, throwing rocks at windows. And apparently, throwing toilets on Chekov. _

_I covered my head, before the porcelain smacked down on Chekov, and he hit down hard, firing a shot though the dumpster, but not me. _

_I felt like I could breathe again. _

_Then I saw Connor jump off the five story building. _

_My heart shattered, reattached itself, and shattered again. I tried to scream, but it was too late. Connor's aim proved deadly again. _

_Even when using his own body. _

_Connor smashed the gun, then rolled off. He wasn't moving. I finally felt my body start to respond, and I ran over to him, my hands on his neck. _

_Please be a pulse, please be a pulse, please be a pulse. _

_Thank God, a pulse. My brother was alive. _

_The man that Connor had crushed was starting to stir, and I became enraged and I grabbed the toilet lid. _

_I wasn't really thinking if it was self defense or not. I just wanted to kill him. He was evil, and I wasn't going to deal with an evil man. _

_I pounded the lid against that mother fucker's head until he stopped moving. I dropped the lid, then decided to chuck it. Fingerprints. No fingerprints. Then I stole all of the money, guns, rings, everything. I threw it in a bag, then I grabbed my brother. _

_I had to repay the favor. _

Connor put his hand on my neck and squeezed, he knew. Connor always knew.

"We're alright man. We're alright."

"Aye," I nodded, but I noticed him staring at the faint scars around his wrists.

It was here. It was here, that God sent the message to us.

"Get your hands off me!" echoed through the alley. Connor and me were immediately on edge. We made our way quietly down an alley, and saw a thick looking man, gripping a red headed girl by the wrist. She was pulling away and had tears in her eyes.

"'Ow dare you talk to me like that! Some one ought to teach you to 'ave some respect!" the thick man growled, his British brogue shocking the boys. This was an Irish neighborhood after all. Connor and me approached the couple.

"Doesn't seem like she wants ta be talkin ta ye mate." I spat. The girl smiled at us gratefully. The man, not so much. He glared at us.

"What do you care?" he asked. "This doesn't concern you. If I want to do this-" he raised his hand and smacked the girl.

He didn't have time to finish his sentence, me and Connor attacked him, throwing him to the grown. The girl was pushed back a few steps, and she just stared at us. Connor met her gaze.

"Lass, if I were ye, I'd run." he smiled at her. She just nodded and ran. Me and Connor continued to wrestle with her abusive boyfriend. He pushed me against the wall, and I reached out to grab his shirt, which reviled some ink on his shoulder.

_The ballad of Charlotte Dymond. _I smirked.

"Oy! Connor, look, we got us a Richardson." I pulled the thug closer and Connor grinned evilly.

"Well, we need to have a chat." he told the man, and grabbed him, we both managed to get him into our old building, which by the look of things, was now completely abandoned. Connor pushed him against a pole, and I looked around. Oh Jesus, there was some rope closing off the stairs. I rolled my eyes, and grabbed it. Then bound it around the thug's hands. He glared at us.

"Who the 'ell are you?" he looked at us. I stretched my back.

"Ye know, my dear brother, I never understood dat."

"Understood what?" Connor looked at me.

"Scum. They always seem surprised, or in denial that we get them. Did we not make ourselves clear at Yakavetta's trial?" the thug's head shot up then. His face went white.

"Oh aye, I agree. We make our feelin's about them perfectly clear, yet they seem _surprised _to see us." Connor agreed with me.

"Y-You're the Saints."

"Bing-fuckin-o" I smiled and slapped his face.

"So, can ye tell me about yer little, organization?" Connor asked him. The thug glared at him, shaking his head. Connor looked at me. "Hey, bro, you ever played Russian Roulette?"

"No." I smirked "How do ye play?"

"Well, it's pretty simple," he smiled, and pulled out a gun. Flicking the chamber open, he inserted a single bullet, and spun the chamber, then snapped it shut. "See, dere's only one bullet in da gun, aye? And I spun da chamber around a bit. So, when I press this against Bobby's head and pull the trigger, well, it may or may not kill him."

"Oh fuck…" Bobby moaned. We ignored him.

"Well, dat's suspenseful." I noted, lighting a cigarette. "Don't ye agree Bobby?"

"My name's not Bobby." he barely whispered. Connor knelt down and smacked his face lightly.

"Does it really matter?"

"No." Bobby dropped his head and sighed. Connor pressed the gun against his head.

"Now, Bobby, if ye don't like my game, then don't play. Jus' tell us about yer organization."

"Fuck, it this is Russian Roulette, shouldn't I 'ave a gun as well?"

"Dat's not what he asked Bobby." I chided, shaking my finger at him. His eyes went wide.

"I-I'm not telling you wankers anything!" he retorted. Connor pulled the trigger.

_Click_

Bobby looked like he was going to piss himself, and relief and fear flooded his face. Connor laughed.

"Well, aren't ye a lucky little bastard dere, Bobby."

"Aye, but are ye gonna be dat lucky again?" I pointed my smoke at Bobby. "Dat's da million dollar question."

"Aye, so Bobby," Connor cocked the gun, and pressed it back against Bobby's head. "Do ye wanna risk it?"

"Fuck! Shipping! We're in shipping! We're shipping in loads of shit and selling to all the gangs!" he cried.

"What about yer boss?"

"No one 'ere knows shit about the Boss!" he told us. Me and Connor looked at each other.

"Bull fuckin shit Bobby."

"No, really! 'E's a mystery to us even!"

"Why would ye work under a ghost ye never even met?" Connor asked him. Bobby regained some confidence.

"Because, 'e's fucking powerful. The Richardsons have been coming to America slowly, and carving out a niche very very carefully. We 'ave people in the police department, DA's office, city council, 'ospital's, prisons, you name it. We 'ave it covered." he explained, with a hint of pride. Me and Connor glanced at each other. What shithole had we just jumped into.

"Bit of base coverin for just drugs." I stated. Bobby laughed.

"We're not doin this for the drugs. The Boss is planning on taking over New England. And once 'e takes you fuckers out. There'll be no one standing in our way. We'll push out the other gangs, and anyone who tries to mess with us will figure out why we call ourselves the torture gang." Connor scowled.

"How the hell did yer boss find us?"

"'E's got and in at the police station, and the 'ospital, it wasn't that 'ard to figure out, according to 'im."

"How's he keep finding us?" I asked.

"Boss was tracking you, but 'e lost you. 'E's been trying to locate you since 'Alloween." he murmured. "'E's been going through all 'is old informants, trying to find you guys. We've been ordered to knock off anyone that actually knows 'is name. that's what I was doin today. Then I ran into my girlfriend, and we got into a fight."

"Who were ye going after?"

"Some tattoo artist named Kristina Chambers. Apparently she did all of bosses tattoos like four or five years ago, and she knows 'is name and address. Or she at least 'as it on record, so I'm supposed to take 'er out." he sighed. My blood turned to dry ice in my veins, and my body shut down.

Kristina Chambers.

Awh, fuck Tina…shit! Fuck!

Connor's eyes snapped to mine and I bit my lip. This guy was coming to kill Tina.

He was fucking dead.

_Dear God, thank ye for the intervention. _I silently prayed as Bobby's fate was confirmed in my head. He was not going to survive this, but we could stretch this out a little longer.

"What's up with da ink?" I asked. He sighed.

"It's a British ghost story, about a man who slits 'is girlfriend's throat, and leaves 'er for dead. It's the initiation to get into the Torture gang." Connor drew his lip on in disgust. Bobby ignored him. "That's why our gang uses knives. Guns, not unless we 'ave too."

"What the fucks yer boss look like?"

"All I know, 'e's inked up like no one's business. Alright? 'Ands, arms, torso, neck. All of it."

"Ye been real helpful dere Bobby." Connor snarled. Bobby stared at the two of us. He sighed. I pulled out my own gun, and took my stance, on Connor's right. We held our guns to the back of Bobby's head.

"And Sheppard we shall be, for thee my lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hands, that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomeni Patri, Et Fili," the guns cocked. "Et Spritus Scanti" we pulled the tigger, and delivered Bobby. I pulled out some pennies, and Connor leaned Bobby's head back, and I placed them over his eyes. We crossed ourselves, and headed out of the building.

"She did tattoos fer other people?" Connor asked as soon as we were a block away from the building. I nodded.

"Aye…she's a universal artist. I told ye dat."

"Fuck Murphy, what do I know about art? I thought that meant she drew planets and shit!"

"Yeah, well it doesn't." I mumbled, rubbing my temples. "Shit, Connor, he was on his way to kill her!"

"Aye, I heard him."

"What the fuck do we do?"

"Well, we can't very well leave Tina on her own. The Boss has put a hit out on her. We gotta convince her ta stay with us."

"How the hell are we gonna do dat? She fuckin hates us!"

"Dat's not entirely true. She only fuckin hates you." Connor smiled. I glared at him.

"She won't fucking come with us."

"Then I'll fuckin tie her up if I have to! She can't be left alone, not with this group of people."

"Ye and yer fuckin rope." I shook my head. "She won't do it man. She just won't."

"Well, little brother. This looks like a fuckin perfect chance to gain atonement for whatever the fuck ye did ta that poor lass." he ordered me. He fucking ordered me.

"…I think I've warmed up ta the idea with da rope now, if ye don't much mind. I think we should just tie her up." I decided. Connor rolled his eyes.

"My brother, the pussy. Ma would kick yer ass ye know."

"Ma ain't never met Tina." I grumbled. Connor shook his head.

"Ye and yer self destructive behavior. I'm more terrified of yer mouth getting ye killed, then a stray bullet."

"Yer concern is touching." I grumbled. Connor just rolled his eyes.

"Just come on ye dumb fuck, we need a new place ta stay."

I nodded and followed him across the street. Why the fuck, all the tattoo artists in Boston, and it had, it just had to be Tina.

Fucking figures aye?

*Blaine*

I ran my hands through my hair as I walked into Tina's main room. She was staring intently at a coffee pot, and she was covered in red, black and white paint splatter. I eyed a canvas that looked like it had been mauled with those same colors. Tina herself looked terrible, ratted hair, bags under the eyes. She looked like my equivilent when i was taking my math final.

Apparently 3 is not the same as a heart. That means less then three...fuck math.

"Rough night?" I asked her, sitting down at the table.

"Eh, yeh." She grunted. I then noticed the empty whiskey bottle. Oh yikes.

"You two get into it?" I asked. She hissed something I couldn't understand. "Come again?"

"That god forsaken bastard." she said a little clearer.

"Murphy being an ass again?"

"The boy needs a Midol and a Snickers. And a good beating up the ass." she moaned and poured a cup of coffee for herself, then for me. I smiled as she set it down in front of me. She pulled up a chair next to me and took a long drink.

"What'd he do?"

"He opened his mouth. You know?" she sighed. I think that was her thing. She was constantly throwing that into her sentences.

"Yeah, he can be a real dick when he wants to be. But he's not normally that bad." I tried sticking up for him. Something was up with him, I knew that much. He wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Eh." Tina shrugged, then eyed me. "Where did you even meet them?"

"At the hospital. When Conn came in all bloody, I kinda sorta ran into him. Then I helped the Murphy fill out his medical history, because he was shaking too bad to even hold the pen." Tina nodded solemnly. I sighed. "Since I've meet them, they've been doing a constant uphill battle. They haven't caught a break yet. I mean, whoever these people are that are after them, they are out for blood." I tightened my grip on the coffee cup. "I wonder if they know what they're doing."

"Hard to say." She told me, rubbing her head. "When I knew them, they were just Connor and Murphy. You know? They weren't anything else. They were normal. Well, normalish. To a degree. But they didn't carry around the sad that they do now."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You don't have to ask, you know? You can just ask." she told me. _I'm pretty sure Murphy told me that same thing_ I thought to myself. _Oh irony, there you go again._

"Why did you two break up?" I asked. Connor might've said why Murphy never stuck around, but he never said why they broke up specifically. Tina took a deep breath.

"Got to real for him, you know? He couldn't stand it. Suffocation. Sudden images of being trapped. That sort of deal. I was looking for serious. He was looking for a way out." she shrugged. But there was more there, her eyes flashed hurt.

"Was he an ass about it?"

"He's Murphy."

"So he was definitely an ass about it." I sighed. She snorted.

"Murphy practices tough love. It's the only way he can love." she took another drink. "He's never going to find someone. He'll get scared before he'll ever get happy."

"Tragic."

"No, not tragic. Murphy's just movement. I don't think he can help it you know? Everyone's been cursed by the gods with something. I got creativity, Murphy has movement. Connor has logic. Things that hold you back, you know? What're you cursed with?" she asked. I thought about it. Hmmm.

"I have this uncanny knack for surviving things I shouldn't." I finally said. Tina nodded slowly.

"Survival, that's difficult. You know? It's a lot harder then people thing. That's not a curse. That's a gift." she smiled. I nodded, thinking about it.

"That'd make a nice tattoo." I ventured. Tina perked up.

"It would, you know? I could totally do that!"

"You do tattoos?"

"Yeah, I did Murphy's back." She smiled "And a way while back, I did a guy, you know? Not like that, but, I did like this gang boss's tattoos. He had arms all done, hands, neck, chest. It was like almost two thousand dollars. The Brits must be rich or something." she shook her head.

Something about that stood around to me….gang….tattoos….British…oh shit.

"Wait…gang boss? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, he was like, taking about a shipment, you know? To someone on the phone. Why?"

"The guy that attackd me, he was British." I said slowly. Tina bit her lip.

"Do you think, he could be the you know? Same guy?" She asked me. I absentmindedly rubbed my wrists and tried not to let my imagination run wild. Logic. Logic. I had to stay logical about this.

"He might be the same guy, but there's like, what six billon people in the world or something? Is there really that chance that he's one in six billion? I mean like, that's so random. It's crazy. How small is the world? It that possible?"

"Believe me, anything's possible." she told me. I looked at her.

"Should we tell Connor and Murphy?" I asked.

"Maybe." she answered. Murphy's name was bringing her down.

"You know, I think he misses you." I told her, not thinking about it. She gave a sad smile.

"I don't think so."

"But I think he does!"

"I don't think about that, you know?"

"Well, maybe you should start!" I told her.

There was loud pounding at the door, me and Tina jumped about five feet in the air. We were so on edge! Tina got up and started towards the door, but before she could open the door, a loud booming voice roared through the door.

"'Ello 'ello 'ello?" it called. "Why don't you open your door luvs?"

**Ohhhhhhhhhh, i just cliff hangered you guys! it's like a rick roll, but worse! :D so review, because for every review you do, a dollar is donated to teach Blaine math! Lord knows she needs it!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note!: Happy V-Day out there! :DD hope it was fan-tab-u-lous! since i can't exactly give you all candy hearts, i give you this! and i knnow, muprhy's note, i'm such a loser, i couldn't think of what it could possibly say so i copied the song xP sorry!**

**Disclaimer!: i don't own BDS, that's duffy's. i don't own I Am The Walrus. that's the Beatles. and i don't own Someday You Will Be Loved. that's Death Cab For Cutie's! boy i hardly own any of thhis story...**

Chapter Fourteen: Teddy Bears and Tanky Scares. (Yeah, I know. That was terrible)

*Blaine*

Holy shit I've never been this scared before. The door held death behind it, I just knew it.

I didn't really scare easy. I had narrowed it down to three fears actually.

1. Water, for obvious reasons.

2. Clowns, and masks. I don't trust anything that hides itself behind anything. A it's surprising how much trust humans place in the face. It's a reassurance immediately that you're dealing with a fellow human. Really, you bond immediately with a human when you stare at them. Someone willing to hide that instant trust is up to absolutely no good.

3. Death. Ironic, but not death, like dying. I'm talking about the physical manifestation of Death. The Reaper, the Angel, the person who carries you from your body. The person who makes it final. They terrified me. Because I had almost met them. Whoever they were. And I had been convinced, that they were after me, because I had gotten away. I had tricked them. And they didn't like that.

Tina narrowed her eyes at the door, and went to the hall closet, and quietly pulled out a bat.

A fucking bat.

A. Fucking. Bat.

"What the hell are you doing with that?" I hissed.

"Going to get him." she answered.

Oh, well, that makes perfect sense.

We are so fucking dead.

Tina opened the door, standing so that when it opened, she's be behind it. A man ran in, and Tina rushed him, slamming the bat into his ribcage. Harder then I expected too, holy shit. I could hear a crunch that made me wince.

"OW! FUCK! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?" Our captor cried. My mouth dropped, and the silence was soon filled with my hysterical laughter.

Poor Detective Greenly.

"Oh Isis!" Tina cried, dropping the bat. "Greenly, shit! I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

"No! That hurt like a fucking bitch! What the hell were you doing with that bat?"

"Why were you doing that accent you know? Me and Blaine paranoided ourselves out." she told him apologetically. He looked at her.

"Poor you." he snapped "Baseball?'

"Softball. Ten years you know?"

"I do now." He grimaced. "Whoopdeefuckingdoo for you."

"That was a home run." I laughed, still greatly enjoying the whole display. Greenly glared at me. "What are you doing here anyways?"

"Connor and Murphy asked me to check on you. Although, apparently they have no reason to fear, not with Babe Ruth running the show anyways." he gave another pointed glare at Tina and felt up his ribcage. "Shit you cracked one. Damnit!"

"David-"

"Our medical insurance sucks too! It's fucking awful." Suddenly, dark red blotches stained his face. "Awh fuck! I got beat up by a girl! Shit!"

"Hahahaha you be sure to tell Connor that. He thinks we're the weaker sex."

"Ye are da weaker sex." Said Irishman noted as he walked into Tina's place, regarding the scene. His eyebrow made a beeline for his hairline. "What da fuck happened here?"

"Tina was just practicing her swing." I answered, and Tina turned bright red and opened her mouth to speak, when Murphy's voice rang through the apartment from the hall.

"What da fuckin hell are ye doin here?"

"Oh shit!" Came the response from a voice I didn't recognize. Me, Connor and Tina rushed to the door, leaving poor Greenly to hobble over by himself.

Murphy had a greasy looking man pushed up against the brick of the build. Sheer rage covered Murphy's features, his knuckles white from the grip on the man's jacket. The man just looked scared shitless. Connor observed the scene with complete confusion, which worried me.

If Connor didn't know what was going on, then who the hell would?

"Murphy! Stop!" Tina cried, running over towards the altercation.

Oh,. I guess Tina would know…what the hell is going on?

"Back up Tina." Murphy hissed at her, while the greasy man's face lit up.

"Awh, shit baby, help me."

"Murphy! Let go! Now!" she ordered him Murphy turned his glare toward her.

"The fuck is he doin here Tina?"

"Hey, don't talk to my girl like that!" the man ordered Murphy. Murphy trained his glare back on the man.

"Oh, fuck." Connor hissed. I winced.

When Connor was on his pills, he talked a lot about bar fights, and he mentioned a fight where Murphy had literally used wine bottles to knock the shit out of a guy. 'Murphy's a scrapper' he told me. 'He doesn't stop until the other person stops moving, be it a thug, gangster or a fuckin mega-lesbian. Murph won't stop.' and now, it looked like I was going to see this in action.

"Yer girl huh?" he hissed, malice hardening his voice like ice. Tina winced. "Yer fuckin girl?"

"Tina!" the man looked at her with fear. Tina's composure came back.

"Let go of Brent." Murphy looked at her, shock, pure shock on his face. "Now Murphy." Murphy's hands didn't budge.

"Ye got ta be fuckin kiddin me."

"Let him go." she told him again.

"Yer back with him?"

"You bet she is buddy. Now will you kindly put me the fuck down?" Brent growled, Murphy shut his ass up with another glare. Then he turned his attention back to his ex girlfriend.

"What do you care who I'm with. You dumped me you know?"

"Dat's not even da fuckin point here Tina! Last time ye let this mother fucker inta yer life-"

"Not here." Tina's words were laced with such venom I was shocked. Murphy too apparently. His sentence died in his mouth. "Not your problem anymore."

"Never was _my_ fucking problem, was it."

"Let me down you Irish faggot, or I'll take a fuckin rock to your-" Brent started. Like lightning, Connor was at his brother's side, glare trained on Brent as well.

"Ye'll fuckin what?" He snarled. Me and Greenly looked at each other, this was shaping up to be getting out of hand, very, very quickly.

Brent looked like he lost a little of his nerve, I couldn't really blame him. Hell, the boyos were scaring me right now. Tina looked like she was going to either smack Murphy, or cry.

She opted for the former.

Murphy finally released Brent to bring a hand up to his face. I could see the red starting to form there from where Tina's hand had hit him. Gotta hand it to her, she wasn't weak. That looked like it hurt. And judging from the wince he got from Brent and Connor, I was probably right. He looked at Tina, and instead of the sheer rage I was expecting to see in his eyes, there was only hurt.

Murphy turned around, and walked away. Leaving the rest of us, in a very intense, terrifying silence.

"Fucking Insane" Brent muttered. Connor glared at him, and pulled his fist back, and decked him right across the face. Brent's head smacked back into the wall. I smirked. I could almost hear the birdies.

_Koo-koo koo-koo _I thought to myself. Connor looked back at me.

"Wanna grab yer shit. I think it's time fer us to go."

"Yeah…I'd second that." I ran back into the apartment, and packed everything that the boys had brought me, rapid fire, then walked back out, with his and Murphy's duffle bags too. Brent was totally going to be feeling that one, and Tina was staring at Connor in shock. I smiled at her.

"Thanks for letting us stay with you." I thanked her. Then I walked towards Connor, crunching my foot hard over Brent's hand. He cried out in pain and stared at me. "Don't call people insane." I smiled. "You never know who might actually be." I smiled as sweet as I could muster. He looked at us in shock. Connor headed towards the stairs, and I ran to catch up.

Once we were in the stairwell, he turned to me. "Ye wouldn't happen ta have any idea what jus' happened, would ye?"

"No, I was hoping you would've know what that was all about." I shrugged. He grabbed the duffle bags from me and shrugged.

"Beats the holy fuck outa me." he popped his left hand and smirked. "Been while since I've done dat."

"Not a lot of saintly fist fighting?"

"Nah, I can honestly say, we don't do much a dat." he snickered as we continued down the stairs. I was wondering where Murphy was, when my question was answered, he was leaning against the doorway that lead out, his right hand bleeding, and the wall across from him had some blood smeared on it too. He looked at us.

"Hey."

"Okay, what the fuck was that?" I asked, throwing my thumb over my shoulder. "That was insanity at it's most chaotic level." Murphy shrugged.

"T'was an old friend is all."

"Ol' friend?" Connor looked at him in disbelief. Murphy nodded. Connor and I looked at each other.

"Bull fucking shit." We told Murphy at the same time. He gave a sigh. He was being way to calm about what happened. The only sign that what had just happened, happened, was the drying blood on his knuckles and the wall, and the vibrant red on his face. Murphy should be flying of the handle or doing something….other then stand there and stare at us.

"Dat was Tina's boyfriend before I was. Let's jus' say I don't much approve of da way he treated her when dey were together."

"Dat bad?"

"Bad enough ta warrant dat little scene, aye."

"Is it safe to leave her with him?" I asked. Murphy nodded.

"He never hit her or anythin' like dat, he's just not very good at lookin out for other people. But Tina's a big lass, if she wants ta do dis again, who am I ta get in the way." he pushed off from the wall and kept staring at us. "Are we goin or not?"

"Aye." Connor nodded, motioning for me to follow. "We're coming." We walked toward their dying clunker, and I crawled in the back, while Connor took the wheel, and Murphy sat in the passenger.

"Uh…boyos? Where are we going?"

"We got a new place, tis actually kinda nice. Guaranteed hot water every day." Connor smiled.

"Aye, and heating fer da winter."

"Sounds like the fucking Taj Mahal." I laughed. They nodded.

"It is ta us. Fuckin nice really."

"Well good, you princess' deserve a castle."

"Fuck you Blaine," Murphy snickered. "And didn't ye hear? I'm an Irish faggot."

"Aye, if yer goin ta insult us, do it right."

"I'll keep that in mind." I rolled my eyes. The boys seemed okay, but I was worried about Tina. What if she wasn't? What if that ass tried to hurt her. Murphy obviously didn't like him, and that's a sign right there. Murphy was a Saint, it was like, his job, or calling or internship for Jesus or whatever it was to find and destroy evil men. If a Saint didn't like you, that was a very, very bad sign…and yet, we were driving away.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so much a fact that he was a bad man, then it was the fact that he was Tina's boyfriend. Murphy lives through emotion, and most definitely thought denial of emotion. So, it was also very possible that Murphy was _jealous_. That made sense too.

I wanted clarification of this, but seeing how Murphy had literally just beat the shit out of a wall, I didn't want to press my luck. I was just going to have to play this one by ear, and hope I could solve this little mystery!

I was going to be _Blaine Matthews: Super Sleuth_ I thought to myself with a triumphant smirk on my face.

Now, I just needed my own theme song.

Actually, the theme song and the super sleuth title wasn't important, I just had slip Murphy a painkiller, and he'd be singing like a canary. This plan was full-proof! And really, he brought this upon himself, I don't much enjoy being brushed off. And from the look on Connor's face, he shared my feelings.

Murphy had a real honest to God secret, and I was going to figure it out. Come hell or high water.

.:.

Hell or high water came a lot sooner then I expected, to be honest. In fact, once we had arrived at the new place (There really was heating! I could've cried!) the boys decided that they were going to make dinner…

And six hours later, I had just finished cleaning up the kitchen. Those idiots had somehow managed to screw up chicken and rice.

Chicken and rice!

Somehow, the rice exploded, and it was all over everything. And wouldn't you figure, it was the sticky rice. So I had to pick off every single grain of rice, and unlike what Mulan leads you to believe, it isn't that easy. It took six hours! Not to mention I had to cake off the charcoaled chicken from the pan they had tried to cook that in.

We had ended up ordering a pizza.

Then, they got into a fight, and threw pieces of pizza at each other.

I was living with children.

Children with lethal aim, but children nonetheless.

I trudged into my room, and flopped down on the mattress that had become more natural then a bed and reached for my bag. I hadn't even gotten the chance to unpack. I dumped out all my clothes, makeup and other various girl things that had made the Saints of South Boston turn a slight green color.

They can get shot multiple times and smile through it, but they lose all guts and glory at even the mention of the word Tampax.

My iPod popped out last, and my heart stopped.

"OH SHIT DAMN FUCK FUCK DAMN SHIT FUCK DAMN!" I cried, ripping through the shit on my bed. It wasn't there! It wasn't there! Connor and Murphy ran into my room.

"What da fuck is goin on?"

"I lost it!"

"What?" they asked. I swore inwardly. I had two choices, tell them about it, and face their wrath, or not tell them, and never find it.

Fuck me.

"My…uh…my teddy bear." I mumbled.

Silence.

Hysterical laughter.

Yaaaaaaaay.

"Christ Blaine, what are ye? Two?" Connor was seriously laughing, I think there were tears in his eyes, Murphy looked about the same. I glared.

"Look, it was my sister's favorite toy alright? And every night, she'd snuggled up with her bear, and she wouldn't go to sleep unless I sang her the walrus song. Her routine became mine, now I need the bear and the iPod if I want to sleep tonight." I sighed. Conn and Murph had stopped laughing…out loud.

"What's da walrus song?"

"I Am The Walrus." I answered. "Beatles."

"Tell ye what," Murphy smirked. "If ye sing the song, I'll go get yer fuckin bear."

"You sure you wanna go back there?"

"Look, I'll just ask fer da bear and get out." he shrugged. "if ye sing it." I glared at him, then leand my head back.

"Sitting in an English garden, waiting for the sun, if the sun don't come you get tan from standing in the English rain. I am the eggman, whoo, they are the eggman, whoo, I am the walrus, kookookachoo." I sang, utterly humiliated. Connor and Murphy howled with laughter.

Huh, their laughter was identical.

"Just go get my fucking bear."

"Whatever ye say John Lennon." Murphy sniggered.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Kookookachoo." he winked at me. I growled. Murphy glanced at the clock. 11:52. He raised and eyebrow. "Ye think she's even awake still?"

"Doesn't matter." I shrugged. "Tina's lock on her door is busted. She can't lock it. So you can just sneak in if you want, not like she'll notice. You're sneaky right?" I questioned. Murphy's eyes went wide.

"Her lock's broken?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh fuck!" he hissed and started towards the door. Connor grabbed his arm.

"Nehmen eine Waffe und halten Sie Ihren Kopf. Wenn etwas falsch anfühlt, rufen Sie mich an. Verstehen?" Connor told him. Murphy nodded and headed out the door. I stared at Connor.

"What language was that?"

"German."

"How do you know all these?"

"Paid attention in school." He smiled at me. I glared.

*Tina*

Too quiet. My place.

Much to quiet.

Brent was gone, and I didn't really blame him. Murphy would kill Brent if he got the chance.

I had to make sure he didn't.

I should've been sleeping, but no. I was looking for it. For the note.

Stupid note.

I didn't really need to read it, I had it memorized. But I needed to hold it.

Murphy was hurt when I hit him. Not physically, no I really couldn't cause bodily harm to him.

I hurt his heart.

In defense of myself, I forget he has one sometimes.

Finally, I found the note. It was old and worn, obviously read over several times. Because I enjoy hurting myself over and over.

_Tina-_

_I can't pretend that I felt any regret, because each broken heart will eventually mend. As the blood runs red, down the needle and thread. Someday you'll be loved. And the memories of me, will be more like bad dreams. Just a series of blurs, like I never occurred. You may feel alone when you're falling asleep, but I know your heart belongs to someone you've yet to meet. And I'm sorry I did it this way, but I didn't belong there anymore. _

_-Murphy_

Man, that never got any easier to read. But he had been right. He had faded from my mind.

I stitched my heart back together. He was a blurry thing.

Then he came back.

Why did he come back? Why did he have to come back.

He had no reason.

He had no right.

He really had no right to say who I'm allowed to be with.

Well, was with. Brent pretty much called it off.

Needle and thread, here I come.

I stood up from the ground, and sighed, heading back towards my room, and I heard my floor creek behind me. I jumped. Then laughed, and shook my head at myself.

"How long have you been living alone? The house creeks you know?" I laughed at my stupidity.

It wasn't stupidity.

When I turned around, there was a man in my house. A monster. He was giant. His eyes were cold like Anubis. His hands held the glow of a knife. Sutekh. God of evil. My eyes went wide.

"You're a very hard woman to track down Ms. Chambers." he smiled at me.

"Why do you want to find me?" I somehow managed to say. He smiled.

"Your boyfriends have been causing problems for us." he explained, gesturing with the knife. My eyes followed the metal.

"Boyfriends?"

"The Saints."

"I think you might have me confused with someone else. Chambers is a common name you know?"

"No Kristina, I'm not mistaken." he smiled, and in any other situation, it would've been assuring.

Now? Not so much.

He lunged for me, and caught me by the hair. I struggled against his grip, but he was much. Much stronger. He struck the knife at me, and I felt it slide down my arm. My blood slid down my arm, and made small plinking sounds against the wood of my floor. I cried out and thrashed against him harder, which only made him laugh.

I was going to die, being laughed at.

The man pulled me up, only to kick me on my knees. He wretched my head back, exposing my neck.

The blade felt like ice against it.

"I am very sorry, Ms. Chambers, but business is business, there's nothing I can do about it." he sighed.

I closed my eyes.

I should've fixed my lock.

I heard a strange clicking noise.

"Get da fuck away from her." The accented voice snarled. "Now!"

Murphy?

I heard the monster chuckle. "I'm going to assume you're one of the Saints."

"An' I'll assume yer Tank." he answered. "Get da fuck away from her Tank."

"If I let her live, I'll have to kill you."

"Fuckin try."

Tank threw me to the ground, which I connected with hard.

Catching myself didn't even cross my mind.

I was too transfixed with the scene in front of me. Murphy didn't look like Murphy. He looked hard. Angry. Strong. Scary.

"Keep yer fuckin head down!" he ordered me. I listened, and covered my head with my hands. I couldn't see.

But I could hear.

Murphy growling.

Tank laughing.

Fists against flesh.

A muffled popping noise.

Two cries of pain.

Running.

Silence.

Fear. Sickening, icy fear.

"T-tina?" Murphy hissed. "Are ye alright?"

I slowly lifted up my head. Tank was gone. Murphy was on the ground. His hand covering his lower ribcage. Right side. He was vibrating it looked like. And blurry.

Wait, no. that was just me.

I was shaking.

I was crying.

Murphy made his way over to me, giving me a once over. Making sure I wasn't dying.

Then, Murphy threw on arm around me and pulled me towards him, squeezing.

I didn't know how to react.

"Tina, ye need ta say something. So I know yer okay." he told me. Still holding on to me.

"That was…you know?" I finally managed. Murphy barked a laugh. He finally released me. He wiped a tear off my face, and he smiled. His face was kinda blue from where I hit him. I reached out and touched it.

"Sorry."

"I deserved it." he admitted.

"Why are you here? Not that I'm not you know, grateful, but…."

"Well, Blaine forgot her teddy bear." he answered. As if that was a completely good reason to go to someone's house in the middle of the night.

I'm glad he thought so.

Murphy made to stand up, and he cried out, and fell back down. Then I noticed the blood.

So much blood.

"Oh man." my eyes stared at the dark fabric of his shirt, which was now shiny from the liquid pumping out of his body. He looked up at me.

"Ye wouldn't happen ta have some bandages would ye?"

I did. Actually.

I went to the kitchen, and grabbed the box of medicine.

"Shirt needs to be off. You know? So I can see." I mumbled. Murphy only nodded, and wrestled the fabric off his body.

Oh man…

The last time I'd seen his chest, the only smudge on it had been the tattoo over his heart.

Now, there were so many scars. So many burns. So much pain.

And now there was a cut down by his ribcage. He leaned against the couch so I could see it better.

It was deep. And very very straight.

Exacto knife. That's what it was. I had one. Cuts looked just like that.

"Are ye waiting for it to invite ye to touch it?" Murphy smirked. I glared at him, but there was no malice. I was still in shock by the state of his body.

"What happened to you?" I asked as I pressed a rag against the cut. He winced.

"Work."

"So this is all only like, you know? Six months of damage?" I asked. Shocked.

"Aye, I suppose. Can't really avoid it sometimes."

"I guess not." I mumbled, rubbing some disinfectant over the cut. He winced again. "Hey Murphy."

"Aye?"

"Thank you." I finally felt a smile wiggle its way onto my face. As watery as my eyes I was sure.

"Anytime." he smiled back.

"Who was that guy?" I asked. He yawned as I spread a bandage over his wound.

"Tis a long story. Can I tell ye in da morning?"

"You'll be comin back?" I asked. He looked at me like I was retarded.

"Ye can't stay here."

"But…home…"

"Look, as soon as me and Connor take care of dis mess, ye can go back, but fer tonight at least, pack yer shit, and get in the fuckin car." he told me. Head leaning against the couch. Eyes closed. Pained look on his face. I nodded, and went to pack a bag.

Body still shaking.

Before I left, I grabbed the teddy bear, that had been left today. I brought it with me.

When I came back out, Murphy was leaning against my door, keys in his hand. I handed him the bear.

"I think it's lucky."

"Aye, I'd have ta agree. Time ta go." he put his arm around my shoulders and lead me to the car.

.:.

After Blaine had been given the lucky bear, Murphy lead me towards a room.

"Get some sleep." he told me, pushing me towards the bed.

Ha.

No way.

I would not be sleeping tonight.

"I can't. You know? It's too…I'm…you know?" I whispered. Murphy sighed.

"Ye need ta sleep alright? Trust me, yer gonna need it."

I was terrified.

I didn't want to do this.

"Look, sweet dreams alright?" Murphy smiled and started towards the living room.

I grabbed his wrist.

I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Please…you know? Stay with me?" I could barely get the words out.

I peeked up, and saw a shocked look on his face.

"Are ye sure?"

"I'm…too scared to be by myself."

"Alright lass." he nodded.

I fell onto the mattress, and Murphy slid down next to me. His arm immediately going around my waist. I could feel the heat rushing to his face.

"Old habits, you know?" I smiled. The laugh vibrated through him.

"Aye. Some die harder then others. Dat's for sure."

**so there's a little awhh int here for you :] review! and have a happy love day :D thank you to all of you who have reviewed!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: Hey guys! :D so i took a little breaky break from the writing, but i'm back, this is kinda a set up chapter, so i made it as fun as i possibly could! and super big thanks to Thissideortheother, because she's talked me though like, every detail pretty much! she's up with me all hours of the night xD she's a good person.**

**Disclaimer!: i don't own BDS, Titanic, or Fuck You I'm Drunk. :]**

Chapter 15: Players Gonna Play, Haters Gonna Hate

*Murphy*

"Damnit." I groaned as I woke up, a flash of pain running up my side. My breath hitched, and it took a minute for it to pass, nauseating pain. Damn that fucker. I was glad I shot him.

I heard a sigh, and breath tickled across my neck. I glanced down, and Tina had curled into me, her head in between my shoulder and neck. Her fingers were intertwined with my rosary. What the hell?

Right! Last night came rushed back into my head like a fucking freight train. Getting Blaine's bear, finding Tank in the process of trying to kill Tina. Fuck, getting smacked by Tina too. I shot Tank. I smirked to myself. It wasn't exactly a pretty shot, only his shoulder, because that bastard had beat my right across the head as I was about to shoot, but I still fucking got him. More then we could say for a while now.

I carefully untangled Tina's fingers from my rosary, and slid my body away from hers, getting out of the bed, so that I wouldn't wake her up. It was a little too much déjà vu for my taste. Eerily similar towards the night that I walked out, except now she was in my house. Hell, in my bed too. Did I just look for ways to fuck myself over with people? Or Tina in particular. I couldn't decide if she was a mistake, or the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Either way, either option, I ran. Scared out of my fucking mind.

Quietly, I opened my door, and walked out. She was tired, she needed to sleep. I made my way towards the kitchen, where Connor was blowing cigarette smoke, and Blaine was staring intently at the coffee pot, as though that would make the coffee pour faster.

"Mornin." I yawned. They both turned to me.

"Mornin" Connor answered, scanning the paper.

"Meeeyahn." Blaine answered. Well, it was better then the usual greeting. I sat down next to Connor and winced.

"Cad a tharla duit?" Connor asked, not looking up from his paper. _What happened to you._ I shrugged.

"Bhuachan tú roinnt, caillfidh tú roinnt." I answered simply. _You win some, you lose some. _

"Cad a raibh an bua againn?" _What did we win? _

"Fola umar ag láthair choire, saol shábháil, agus táimid ag amach an Richardson's rian" I smirked, pulling out my own cigarette. _Tank's blood at a crime scene, a saved life, and we're off the Richardson's radar._ Connor raised an eyebrow. I gave him my best little angel smile.

"Jeez, the two of you are like walking Rosetta Stones ain'tcha." Blaine yawned as she sat down next to us. We smiled.

"Aye, we could get a job as translators" Connor threw out there.

"Probably doesn't pay as much as killing mobsters" I sighed, blowing out smoke. Blaine rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, because like fifty to sixty dollars an hour is sooooo terrible. You could be stuck on minimum wage."

"We were."

"That's the American dream." she smiled. "So, what crazy, dangerous, incredibly stupid thing are you two doing today?"

"Tis Sunday, we'll be goin ta church." I told her. She waved her hand.

"Yeah, that was a given, I meant after church." she smirked at Connor, who turned a little red. I looked between the two of them.

"Da fuck am I missin here?"

"I'm seein Mika tonight, and I was wonderin if ye wanted ta meet her." he sighed. I raised my eyebrow.

"Yer really inta dis girl aye?" I asked, taking another drag. He shrugged. I knew he was, but it was fun to make him squirm. I got so few chances to do so. I knew he was interested when he went out with her two more times after the first date.

"Connor wants the MacManus seal of approval." Blaine sniggered, lowering her cup from her mouth. Connor glared at her.

"Yer da devil, ye know dat right?"

"It's crossed my mind, once or twice." She smiled. "But my mommy always called me her little angel. I was her pride and joy."

"So what're ye doin tonight Blainey?" Connor asked her. She snorted.

"Sitting at the door, waiting for my masters to come home and give me a treat. Maybe a new collar."

Christ, she was a sarcastic mother fucker. Connor looked amused.

"Now let's pretend dat ye didn't say dat aye?"

"Titanic's on tonight. I'll be watching that. With Tina" she responded.

"Ugh, sounds like and estrogen fuckin nightmare." I shuddered. "Conn, consider me yer third wheel, just please tell me dat it's a pub?"

"A'course it's at a pub." Connor scoffed. "Where da fuck else would I take her?" Blaine looked between the two of us.

"You two have go to be the least romantic, pig headed, straight testosteroned men I've ever met!" she sighed. "Remind me later to give you a crash course in how to treat a woman. Alright?" me and Connor laughed, got up and pressed a kiss against Blaine's head.

"We love you too." we smiled, and went to get ready for church.

*Boss*

The Boss was livid.

Tank failed, how the fuck did Tank fail? Tank was his absolute, his ace in the hole, his always right. Tank never failed.

But he couldn't take out one woman, who was alone, unarmed, and not even 120 pounds soaking wet. Tank failed. The Richardson's didn't accept failure. The Boss lifted his hand up, and slammed it down against Tank's face. Tank didn't make a sound, choosing to take his punishment in silence.

"'Ow could you fuck that up? Do you realize 'ow bad this just got?" The Boss snarled. "You not only let someone who knows us, but she's not in the Saint's custody, and we 'ave no fucking idea where the 'ell they went!" The Boss pulled his fist back and smashed it into Tanks already bloody and bruised face. The Boss did not except failure. The gang did not accept failure. They had too much product flowing to be stopped. An old British mixture of ketamine, and morphine. Warps the fucking world. The Boss's new friends were very into the mix. "If the Saint's keep knit picking our lower status soldiers off, at some point those idiots in the South Boston Police Department will start to pick up the connection. We'll 'ave so many cops up our ass, we'll be picking them out of our goddamned teeth."

Another fist to the face. Tank still didn't speak.

"Chelsea just finished our last calling card, do you 'ave any idea how fucking bad this now became? Our body count just 'it fucking 4, and the Saints two. That's six fucking bodies. One of those idiots will notice this!"

"Boss…" Tank finally spoke. "Let me go get the girl now."

"'Ow the fuck are you going to find them? We lost all fucking location."

"We have people everywhere. Planted in every nook and cranny of this city." The Boss considered this. "We just have to open their eyes. We just have to ask in the places they're sure to show up." Tank continued. "And I already did."

The Boss took a deep breath, calming down. Tank was his body guard for a reason. In the physical sense, Boss was just a kid. He wasn't even twenty five. He'd been picked to run this organization by Tank. Tank had groomed him into the thing that he was. He was the favored Boss. He had so much to prove. He owed it all to Tank.

But Tank also understood the way that Boss ran this. He had made it perfectly clear when he took control that this was not a crime family. This was an organization. A factory. He was not going to hold their hands. Everyone was expandable. Everyone. If you died, then you were dead. However, if you played by the Boss's rules, and you lived. You would be making more money then you had ever imagined. And the Boss hadn't lied there. They were bringing in more money then they knew what to do with.

The Boss ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, and sat down in a chair. His calmed himself slowly.

"You already checked up on it then?"

"Yes Boss."

"What did you find?"

"Our eyes in the police department haven't seen anything, neither have the ADA or the hospital ones. But one of the medical examiners that owes us a debt, they've heard of a tattooed Irishman stopping by to talk to another med examiner every now and then." Tank answered, wiping some of the blood off of his face. Boss stared hard at Tank.

"A fuckin body doctor buys from us?"

"Yes Boss."

"Christ these people disgust me." Boss shook his head. "They're all disgusting little creatures. Now, seeing as your wing there 'as been clipped, order Chelsea to survey the building. Tell her to make no move. No matter what. She isn't to attack."

"Yes boss." Tank responded.

"And get yourself to a 'ospital alright? I can't 'ave my right 'and man lose 'is power, now can I?" The Boss gave Tank a genuine smile, and smacked his right shoulder.

"Of course you can't Boss. Beside, I'm the pretty one." Tank smiled and stood up, ready to follow orders.

The Boss took a seat in his leather chair, his boots swung up to rest on his desk. Pulling out a cigar, he lit it and took a nice long drag. He was getting pretty sick of these Saints. They were much more trouble then they were worth.

But then again, all the Irish were.

The Saints, more so. He was tired of them, completely tired of them. They were hardly worth any of the street men they had picked off. And he had lost two to them so far. That made him angry. Those were great dealers, the two of them. And the Saints had brutally executed them.

A cloud of smoke escaped the Boss' mouth as he exhaled.

Yes, he was very tired of the Saints.

He believed that he was going to move his plan along much much faster.

And the Saints, were not going to know what hit them.

*Murphy*

"You've given me an option, ye say I must choose-" I sang slurred, and very off key.

"'Tween you and the liquor den I'll take da booze!" Connor sang the next line for me.

"Jumping on Western down to the South side!"

"Where I'll sit down, and exercise my Irish pride!" Me and Connor screamed at the top of our lungs, the entire pub cheering. It was nearly nine, and Connor's wan hadn't shown her face yet. But by God, the pub sure had missed up.

"FUCK YOU I'M DRUNK! FUCK YOU I'M DRUNK! POUR MY BEER DOWN THE SINK, I'VE GOT MORE IN DA TRUNK!" The pub sang back to us. Me and Connor were cracking up, Christ, the Irish were not singers, that much was certain.

"FUCK YE I'M DRUNK, FUCK YE I'M DRUNK! AND I'M GOING TA BE DRUNK, 'TILL DA NEXT TIME I'M DRUNK!" Me and Connor threw our arms around each other, swaying on the bar as we finished off the song. Bree, Doc's barmaid smacked our legs with her towel.

"Get the hell of me bar ye bog trotters!" She hollered at us. We feigned hurt.

"Bree, yer words are breakin me heart." I sighed, hand over said organ. She snorted.

"Every time da two of ye show up ta my bar, I have ta stay late ta get the damn foot prints of me bar."

"Awh Bree, ye know ye love us." Connor winked at her. She rolled her eyes and looked behind us.

"Well, would ye look at dat." She smiled. "If it isn't the Asian Mick." she gestured behind us. I looked, and saw a cute little Asian girl walk in. She was wearing a tight black skirt, and a red skin forming long sleeve. She was scanning the bar.

Was she lost?

"Well!" One of the patrons laughed. "It is our little Asian Mick! Oy! Connor, door's for you!"

"T'would look like it is." Connor laughed, hopping down off the bar and towards the Asian.

It took all my self control not to laugh. Connor had to be one of the most racist people I'd ever met, and here he was. Dating an Asian.

God, I love irony. I hopped down, and followed my brother, to the girl, to whom he pressed a kiss against her lips.

"Why is it that every time I come here, you end up on a bar?" she laughed. He shrugged.

"Yer always late! I get bored sometimes." he snickered. She smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, I had some business I needed to stitch up. Saints strike again." she told him, a shudder made it's way up my spine. Right, this was the coroner. She seemed to notice me then. A huge smile stretched across her face. "You've got to be Murphy!"

"Aye, that I am." I gave her back a smile. She held out her hand. I was shocked at first, I was never one for politeness, and damnit, I wasn't one to shake hands. I threw my arms around her and gave her a hug. She just laughed and hugged me back. While my arms were around her, I took a deep breath. I _had_ to know if she smelt like formaldehyde.

When I pulled away, I noticed she had her eyebrow raised.

"I try hard not to smell like dead people, I hope I passed your test." she gave me a wry smile. I blushed, and rubbed the back of my head.

"Actually, ye smell nice." I mumbled. She laughed and Connor cuffed me upside my head.

"Yer a right bastard, ye know dat Murph?"

"Course I do." I smiled, and Connor rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand.

"Let's go take a seat then why don't we?" he suggested. Connor squeezed the three of us into a booth, and Bree came over.

"Praise Jesus, the MacManus' sit their asses down." she smiled at us. "What can I get yous?"

"Probably be best if ye just brought us a bottle Bree, I think we'll be needing it." Connor smiled at her. Bree groaned and returned a few minutes with a bottle and shot glasses.

"Now, one of ye little bastards is coming with me." she pointed at us. "I have to go dig out another couple of bottles from the back, and I sure don't feel like lifting up the boxes. So, let's go." she crossed her arms and waited.

"Well, get yer ass up and help her Conn." I smiled. He glared at me.

"Ye do it."

"Nooooooooooooo! Ye wanted me ta get ta know the lass, then let me get ta know her. And go help Bree, God knows she saves our drunk asses more then enough." Connor held up his hands in defense.

"Alright Bree, I'm yers" Connor smiled, following her to the back. I set two of the shot glasses upright and smiled at Connor's girlfriend.

"Alright Mika," I smiled "let's get to know each other. Aye?"

"Sure. Let's do it." she answered. "Quick and painless."

"So, truth or drink?" I smiled. She raised her eyebrow.

"And that is?"

"Question game. If ye don't wanna answer, ye take a shot. Pretty simple. Good for honest people." she smiled. I poured two shots and she took one and put it in front of her.

"Shoot."

"Alrigh', I got one. How old are ye?"

"Twenty five. And you?"

"Twenty seven." I answered. "What's the dumbest thing ye've ever done?" she groaned.

"When I was 16, I got into a fist fight. And by fist fight, I mean, I pissed off a girl three times my size, and got the Asian beat out of me." she chuckled at the memory. "So, are you dating anyone?" she asked.

"No ma'am." I winced. "I don't really date. So why do ye want ta work with dead people?"

"Because, they're a reminder to live." she answered. "So, why don't you date?" she asked me. I struggled internally before I took my shot. She raised her eyebrow. "Touchy subject. I get it."

"Yeah, well, how many men have ye been with?" I asked her as she refilled my shot. Her face turned red, and she drowned her shot.

"Ugh." she shuddered. "Well, what's the stupidest thing you and Connor ever did?"

"Well, when we were 15, we got bored, so, uh, we totally might've jacked some guys motorcycle. So, we took it, and when we were goin across da bridge, Conn took the turn to early." I sniggered as I remember it. "Shit, more curse words have never flown out of me brother's mouth then at dat moment. Anyways, we hit the bottom of the River Shannon." Mika's jaw dropped. "Aye, we got some fun scars from dat one."

"Oh my God."

"Aye." I laughed, it was funny now. But scary as hell when it had happened. "So, do ye think dat yer taking things with my brother kinda fast?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. Her laugh died in her throat. She fingered her shot for a minute, before looking up at me.

"Every day, I have to determine why people die. More often then not, they've been murdered. And they're always so young. They're lives were cut completely short. I see them on my table, and it makes me want to live. I want nothing more then to live, and live completely. I try damn hard to live with no regrets. So, when your brother showed up to my morgue, I went with my gut. He's sweet, adorable, and nice. Funnier then hell, and he's a good man. I'm just sitting back and letting the relationship run itself, and so far, it's been going at it's own pace." she finished. I stared at her. She gave a shy little smile. Huh, that was…well put.

"Ye know, dat was a good answer." I smiled at her. She turned bright red. "So, uh who's older?"

"Well," I laughed. "Ta be honest, we haven't had any takers to tell us who. Are ye interested in bein da first?" I winked at her. She looked at me confused. I felt a hand smack upside my head. "Ow! Fuck!"

"Yer a right fuckin bastard! Ye know dat aye?"

"Damn right" I smiled. "What, don't ye wanna put dis fight ta rest?"

"I'm soooo lost." Mika offered a confused smile. Connor looked at her.

"Helpful hint for surviving my family. Don't listen ta a word any of dem say. Dey're all retarded."

"I resent dat!" I argued. "You're more retarded den me!"

"Hardly." he sat down, surveying the table. "Truth or drink aye?"

"Aye."

"Who's turn?"

"Mine." I answered. "So, lass, what do ye think of the Saints? Heard ye mention dem earlier." Connor kicked my knee under the table, and I winced. Mika sighed.

"I…I hate the Saints. They're completely contradicting their position. Good men don't kill other men. Especially, if they're talking about being good men, they shouldn't give their speech with their guns pointed at a crowd of innocent people. Besides, from a purely working standpoint, I've logged over four hundred extra hours of overtime because of them. It's never just one body. It's at least five. At least. And I'm the only one who works on them, because, when there's no evidence anywhere on the bodies, cops blame you. Lawyers blame you. It's your damn fault that the Saints didn't leave a trace of evidence. So I hate them, for what they stand for, and for personal reasons." she told us.

Connor's face remained calm, but in his eyes, well, the boy was scared shitless. Fuckin figures.

"Well, dat's a very good point." I nodded. "Never thought about it like dat."

"Yeah, well, in that morgue, all I can do is think. Think that; those men had families. No different then the Saints themselves I'm sure. And they have the audacity to fucking stand there and glorify themselves." she snarled. I winced inwardly. Well, she's like the opposite of our biggest fan. "So, anyways, pour that bottle, and let's start this little shindig. I wanna see how real Irishmen get thrown out of pubs."

And get thrown out of that pub we did! Bree had to literally kick my ass out. Laughing at me the whole time. We bid her a goodnight, and we walked Mika home, because a lass shouldn't walk home by herself, we say! She asked us if we wanted to come in and sleep it off, but we declined. If we didn't come back, Blaine would go fucking crazy. So she kissed Connor, then she planted one against my cheek.

"Ye know, I kinda like her." I told Connor as I threw my arm around him and we headed home. He smiled.

"Aye, meself as well."

"Shit luck she hates the Saints."

"Aye…"

"Hope ye weren't planning on droppin dat little piece a information ta her."

"Well, can't exactly do dat now, can I?"

"Nooooo." I slurred. "Ye heard da lass, ye gave her fuckin 400 hours of overtime. Dat's a lot of hours."

"What da fuck is dis ye stuff! Yer fuckin workin here too!"

"Aye, but I'm not da one datin the lass."

"Aye, but yer not da one datin period."

"Eh. Ye say dating, but all I hear is banshee's wailing. Fuck datin, what's it ever gotten me?" I asked, Connor rolled his eyes.

"Had ye a girl ye were willin ta marry, den ye dumped her fer no reason-" my fist slammed into Connor's face before he could finish.

"Don't fuckin talk about her!" I yelled, pulling back to hit him again, but he beat me to it, his fist was under my chin before I could stop it.

Flying into a streetlight sucks.

Flying into a streetlight drunk? Sucks a hell of a lot more.

My back exploded into a symphony of pops and cracks, and Connor wore a victorious little smirk on his face.

"Awh fuck! What da hell was dat!"

"Called self fuckin defense, my dear brother," Connor answered, shrugging. "Ye attacked me, seemed only fair dat I do it back." he wiped the blood from under his nose. "Why the fuck does that bug you so much."

"It just does alright." I mumbled, wishing he'd just drop it. Connor sighed, and threw his arm back over me.

"Come on then, let's got give our puppy a treat." he smiled and lead me towards the house.

We walked in, and Tina and Blaine were staring intently at the screen, ugh, fucking Titanic. The red haired chick was floating on something, and her boyfriend was in the water.

"Why doesn't he find something to float on too? Why doesn't he try to save himself?" Blaine asked.

"Because, he knows dat if dey got saved, it wouldn't change nothing. Society still wouldn't let them be together, and he knows dat. So if he dies dere, she gets to go back to her charming little life and remember him fondly rather den deal with da reality of fighting everything for her if dey got on land. He took da easy way out." I told her, lighting a cigarette. Blaine weighted my answer over.

"You're wrong Murphy." Tina said, looking right at me. I raised my eyebrow.

"Am I now?"

"Yeah, he didn't try to live because he didn't want to fight for her, he died to save her. She made all those promises to him, and the only reason she lived out her life the way she did, was so she didn't break her promises. He saved her, and he continued to save her for the rest of her life. Not ever man runs when something's good Murphy." her trippy eyes were locked onto mine "and Jack was a good man. He loved Rose. That's why he died in that water. He did it to save her."

Fuck, was it profound outburst night? Christ Almighty.

"Not every man runs, aye. But every man thinks about it."

"No, not every man holds fear. Cowards run." Tina stated, turning her attention back to the tv. Blaine gave me a 'ouch' look, and Connor was trying not to laugh.

Gee, why would anyone break up with Tina? She was so fucking warm.

*Chelsea*

She trained her massive eyes on the apartment building. A smile crossed her pouty lips. She had to be the luckiest human being alive.

She killed five people today.

Five random people.

She tortured them.

She burned them.

She killed them.

She licked her hands clean of their blood.

Then, she placed one penny on each of their foreheads. And left each with one note.

Catch.

Me.

If

You

Can.

It was a Saintly call out if there ever was one. And it would be enough to get the public to turn against the Saints. They weren't going to hurt her family anymore.

She couldn't wait until it was there turn.

Even better, when the Boss had put her on watch of a building, the girl who worked there had lead her right to the Saints.

Richardson's had found them again.

She was the luckiest human being on the planet.

Chelsea couldn't wait to see how this plan played out. She couldn't wait.

All she could do now, was watch.

She was good at that.

Watch, and never be seen.

**you know, she literally creeps me out. *shiver* so unless you want her to stand outside your window and stare at you while you sleep, you'll review :D**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's note: Hey! What's up people, so I was watching the bachelor last night right? And there was some crazy girl who worked at a funeral home who totally reminded me of Mika, and then Brad or whatever his name is reminded me of Connor, which is why your action chapter now has a little bit of smuff in it :D so I hope you like that (Forgive me now, I'm not very good at it, if anyone has any pointers, please let me know!) and as for Smecker's response time, I know it's unlikely, but I needed Mika to bust through the kitchen like she does somehow. And yes! Egyptians did (and still do) use honey to treat cuts!**

**Disclaimer!: I don't own the BDS, or anything else you recognize, but I don't think there is any in this chapter. Ah well. :]**

Chapter Sixteen: Cockblocks, Cuts and Cramps

*Connor*

Mika sighed, and ran her fingers over the scar on my shoulder from my most recent gun shot wound. Plus side of dating a doctor, you get to play doctor. Downside of dating a doctor, you get tricked into thinking you're playing doctor…all the fucking time. So, when we were in my room, and she told me to take my shirt off, what the fuck would any other man expect? But nooo, I'm actually getting checked out by a doctor. Fuck.

"Well," she finally spoke "looks like that scar gets the Dr. Mokoto seal of approval."

"Is dat seal for a clean bill o' health? Or for me chiseled abs?"

"You questioning my professional ethics here?" she snorted. "You seemed to forget that I deal with naked men, daily."

"Christ! Those are fuckin dead though!" I responded, fuck she was good at making me squeamish. She sniggered.

"And blue, and puffy sometimes. But yes, I like your well chiseled abs Connor. They're sexy." she smirked up at me.

"And ye aren't just sayin dat ta hid da fact dat yer a secretly into necrophilia?" I stuck out my bottom lip.

"I wouldn't lie, that's a sin, isn't it, Father Connor?" she asked, hooking her fingers into my belt loops.

Well, now I'm paying attention.

"Well, there's always confession." I smiled down at her, trailing a finger down her neck. Whenever we went out, she dressed up, but when she comes over, she usually wears a pair of jeans and a black BOSTON U sweatshirt. I couldn't decide what look I liked better.

"So, you want me to check out your other scar?" she murmured, planting a kiss right next to my ear.

"Dunno, I don't think ye'll be able ta stay professional." I answered, as I pressed my lips against her collarbone. I felt her twitch under my hands, and I smirked into her skin.

"I do believe you're trying to seduce me, Mr. MacManus," she smirked back. I pushed her back onto my bed, and fell on top of her, holding myself up with my elbows.

"Tryin? Oh no, I'm way past tryin." I informed her as she blushed a little. Her already slanted green eyes narrowed as she grinned.

"You could try harder." well, that does it.

I crashed my lips into hers, and she responded with equal intensity. She moved one hand from my belt up to my face, and then through my hair. I moved my mouth from hers, and headed down towards her neck. I hit a particular spot, and she squeaked, which would've been a win for me, had she not decided at that moment to tug on my hair, which caused a hitch in my breath. Her eyes met mine, and she grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Put a little hitch in your giddy up do I?" she asked, I shrugged.

"Ye might." she raised an eyebrow, and tugged again, while slipping her other hand up my shirt, and slowly dragging her fingers down my back. I moaned. She had a shit eating grin.

"I do believe I am."

"I believe yer about ta get yers." I countered, finding that spot from earlier, and pressing my lips against it. She squeaked again, but I just didn't have the willpower to stop at this point, I continued to explore her neck, and she continued to react rather loudly.

Blaine and Murphy were going to fucking kill me.

Mika regained control, and her hands went from my back, to down my chest, slowly covering every muscle with her fingers, I shivered, and she tugged on my shirt. I was never one to deny a lady, so I pulled it off, she trailed her eyes along my body, then pointed at the rosary I was wearing.

"Uh…this is wrong six ways to Sunday." she smiled guiltily. I pulled that off too, and smiled.

"Aye, well, don't want da priest ta get bored when I confess, better through something real good in dere for him." I answered, I leaned back over her, and she flipped me over, so that she was on top of me. I pulled on her sweatshirt, and she pulled it off, leaving her in a white tank top. And a purple bra. God I love purple.

"Wanna play doctor?" She asked me, gently rocking her hips. I could only manage a nod. She slowly raked her nails down my chest-

"COCKBLOCK!" echoed through the room, and Mika jumped off of me, as my brother fucking knocked me off my bed. I landed on the floor, and he flopped down on top of me.

I was going to fucking murder him.

"Hey Mika, how are ye lass?"

"Well, I'm embarrassed as hell, but uh good." she answered.

"Murphy, you're a fucking asshat, ye know dat…" I growled. Murphy shrugged.

"T'was on my bucket list ta be a cockblock, and it was such good fuckin opportunity." he began cracking up then and I sprang up and grabbed him in a headlock.

"Je vais te tuer putain" I spat at him. _I'm going to fucking kill you._

"Vous ne. Vous manquez moi aussi sacrément bien." He laughed, well, he half choked, half laughed. _You won't. you'd miss me too damn much._

"Essayez-moi" I responded, choking him a little more. _Try me_

"You speak French?" Mika asked as she pulled sweatshirt back on.

"Aye, French, German, Latin, Spanish. All dat stuff." I answered, she nodded.

"Impressive. I took two years of high school Spanish, then dropped it."

"Aye, well, we have a thing fer languages I suppose." I shrugged.

"That's awesome, oh and Conn?"

"Aye?"

"Your brother's turning blue." she pointed towards Murphy. I released him and he started coughing.

"Hijo de Puta." he growled at me. _Son of a bitch. _I smacked his back.

"We knock first in dis house Murphy."

"Aye? Ye want me ta knock, close da fuckin door all da way. What if I had been Blaine?"

"…She prolly would've done the same thing." I sighed, and pulled my shirt back on. "So ye have a reason for being a dick?"

"A'course I do." Murphy smiled. "I nostri amici polizia pensa che hanno trovato serbatoio, hanno risposto a una chiamata in ospedale su un colpo di pistola alla spalla un paio di giorni fa, è stato rilasciato stanotte. Vale la pena almeno guardando" _our police friends think they found Tank, they got called to the hospital for a gun shot wound to the shoulder a few days ago, and they're releasing him tonight. It's worth at least checking out._

"Aye, I'd say it is." I nodded.

"Italian too? Shit, you're making me look bad here." Mika smiled and shook her head.

"Aye, and I'm sorry lass, but it looks like some work's come up. Shouldn't take too long though, ye can stay here if ye want. Blaine's good time if yer bored."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea, I might need to take out her stitches anyways, so it's cool." she paused "Where do you work again?" I glanced at Murphy, shit. I got nothing.

"Translators, wouldn't ye know it. We help Smecker out sometimes." The lie came out of his mouth like velvet. Damn him and his ability to lie. Mika nodded.

"The languages make sense now. Well, have fun. Tell Smecker I say hi." she smiled then headed downstairs. I exhaled.

"Damn, ye got a fuckin minx on yer hands, don't ye." Murphy noted. I slammed my hand upside his head. "Ow! What, tis a good think, minx in da bedroom, ice queen everywhere else." Murphy'd taken to calling her ice queen, since he'd watched her shut down on of the fellas at the pub, who didn't understand what she meant by no thank you.

"Shut the hell up, and get our fuckin shit together."

"Where da fuck ye goin."

"Cold fuckin water." I mumbled. Murphy let out a whistle.

"Don't let dat one go Conn!"

Once I'd been iced down, and we had our shit together, we walked downstairs, and Mika was looking over Blaine's back, who was laying on the couch with her arms wrapped around her middle.

"Ye alright lass?" Murphy asked. She winced.

"Yeah, don't worry about it." she answered.

"Yeah right, what da hell's wrong?" I asked. She shook her head.

"Let it go."

"We ain't going anywhere until ye tell us." Murphy shrugged.

"I'm on my fucking period. So get out of my fucking face. Before I fucking cut you. Fuck." she snarled at us.

I think all the color fell from my face.

Give me a fucking mobster with a gun, a druggie with a butterfly knife, Murphy trapped in a small confined area, Ma sober.

Give me fucking any of that, rather then tell me that.

Murphy looked a little grin around the gills as well. Blaine snorted at us.

"That freaks you out? Come on now. You worked at a fucking slaughterhouse. But ooooh someone says the word period and it makes you ill? Pussy."

Slaughterhouse was sounding better and better.

"Awh, Christ, we need ta get the fuck out of here, quick." Murphy groaned, and pulled me out the door with him.

"Christ, dat was nasty." I shuddered as we pried open the doors to the clunker.

"Aye, fuckin terrible," he shook his head. "Why da fuck would she tell us dat?"

"I haven't the slightest idea." I shook my head. My clunker roared to life…well sputtered, and we were off.

"Ye know, it think it's time ye let da car go." Murphy sighed as we hit a pot hole rather hard.

"Ye want me ta get rid of Giste báis?" I asked, incredulous. Murphy rolled his eyes.

"Ye fuckin named it death trap! Yeah, I think it's time for it ta go!"

That argument kept us busy for a while there. I was not getting rid of gaiste báis, that that was fucking final. That was the first car I was ever able to buy, and it sure as hell wasn't ending up in the dump heap somewhere. Absolutely not.

Even if the car was a screaming metal death trap! It was my screaming metal death trap.

.:.

An hour and a half later found me and Murphy hidden in some alley, waiting. Christ, it was fucking cold. I dug my hands deeper into my pockets and buried my chin into my chest. Murphy was hopping up and down, and attempting to light his smoke that way.

Good luck with that one Murph.

"When's dis mother fucker gonna show?"

"How the fuck should I know how long a discharge takes? We don't usually get discharged." Murphy smiled back at me. "We get suicidal teenagers ta bust our asses out."

"Aye, a'course. Dat's how everyone does it." I shivered. "What's dis mother fucker even look like?"

"Oh trust me, you'll know." Murphy nodded. "They fuckin call him Tank for a reason. He's huge."

"Well, he'd better hurry his ass up. I'm fuckin freezing me dick off-" Murphy cut me off with a hand.

"Speak of da fuckin devil man." he whispered, and motioned for me to come closer.

Holy shit.

Tank was one big mother fucker, he walked out of the hospital, with his left arm in a sling, and a stooped over walk that you have when you're exhausted. Murphy looked at me and I nodded. He'd have to turn out of public eye at some point.

We crossed the street, sticking towards the shadows, like Bronson always taught me, and Tank didn't notice us, a'course, if I remember correctly, yer higher then a fucking kite when you have meds for being shot.

The big guy finally stopped walking, and glanced around nonchalantly before he ducked into an alley. I nodded to Murphy, who followed Tank down the alley. I walked to the next one, and checked to see if they lead to the same back alley. God was on my side today, they did. I walked down that one quietly, and waited at the end of mine, for Murphy and Tank to appear.

Tank's massive footsteps stopped suddenly.

"So, let me guess. You're not a friend." he asked. I chewed on the inside of my lip.

"I'm not usually friend wit people dat try to kill my friend dere, Tank." Murphy answered him.

"Ah, so it's the Saint. How's that stab wound?" he asked. I growled. Christ dat had been an ugly thing, Tina might've cleaned it out, but it bled on and off for a few hours, we almost had to fucking iron it closed.

"Left an ugly scar. How's yer arm?" Murphy spat back. Tank laughed.

"I see you're alone again, what happened? Your brother finally keel over?"

"Actually," I answered him this time "I'm back. And better then fuckin ever."

Tanks demeanor changed then, I guess handling one of us, he was okay, but the two of us, well that was a different story. He didn't look so sure of himself then.

"Back to causing hell for all the hard workers in Boston I see."

"Only da evil ones."

Tank looked behind him, then in front of him, where I was hidden. He sighed.

"There comes a time in a man's life, where he has to decide, will I take death honorably? Or will I make a complete fool of myself in my final minutes." he dropped to his knees. "I've always been a man to take death honorably."

I didn't move at first, and neither did Murphy. That was way to fucking easy. Not after all the hell he's personally given us. No way would it be that easy.

But Tank didn't move from his spot, just stood there and waited. I looked at Murphy, who stuck his nail in his mouth and nodded. I moved from my spot, and Tank locked eyes with me.

"I can't believed you survived."

"Believe it mother fucker." I smirked.

Murphy approached Tank from behind, and then Tank sprang into action he reached behind him, and managed to grab Murphy's collar, he then proceeded to fucking _toss_ Murphy over his head like a fucking rag doll. With only on fucking hand.

Murphy landed on his back in front of Tank, and he smacked his head hard against the ground. _And there's one less fucking time he can hit his head_

"Ye so much as fucking twitch, and I'll kill ye." I snarled, feeling that distinct change in my personality. Tank eyed me.

"You're going to kill me anyways. This way, I can take one of you with me." he lifted his foot in the air, and I fired.

I heard a crack, and a loud thud.

And a hell of a lot of swearing.

I ran over and dropped down next to Murphy. His lip was bleeding, and it looked he'd scratched up his face when he landed, but he was pulling himself up.

"Fuckin, shit!" he asked me. "The fuck?"

"He fucking threw you Murphy." I shook my head. Murphy felt the back of his head and winced, when he pulled his hand away, there was blood.

"Aye, I fucking believe it." he groaned, then looked at Tank. "Let's finish dat mother fucker off."

"Murph, yer head…"

"Fuck my head, he dies now." Murphy answered. I pulled him off the ground and shook my head. Stubborn mother fucker he is. Tank looked up at us, my shots from earlier had been to subdue him, and I had done a damn good job. Kneecap, other shoulder, stomach. Tank pulled himself up to the ground, and knelt down on one knee.

"You win." he told his. "After all, I am just a Knight. I'm expendable." I looked at Murphy who shrugged.

I took my spot on the left, and Murphy took the right. Pulling our rosaries out, we prayed the prayer that had become so significant to us in the past few months.

"And shepherds we shall be,

For thee, my lord, for thee

Power hath descended forth from they hands

That our feet may swiftly carry out thy commands

And we shall flow a river forth to thee

And teeming with souls shall it ever be.

In Nomnine Patris, Et Fili, Et Spiritus Scanti"

The silenced shots barely echoed as Tank's body hit the ground. I took a deep breath, as I dropped the adrenaline, and the 'Saintliness' as Murph called it. Murphy pulled out two pennies, and we each placed one over his eyes. I crossed him and Murphy muttered an 'amen.'

Murphy threw his arm around me. "Thanks fer savin my ass back there."

"What else are big brother's for? Now come on, we gotta go spray yer blood."

"Aye. Fun fucking shit." he rubbed his head. "Shit, dat hurts."

"Told ye, yer runnin out a hits Murph. Gotta watch it."

"Fuck ye."

*Murphy*

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit! My head is fucking killing me. And riding in the goddamned gaiste báis, wasn't helping shit at all. Connor kept looking at me too.

"Ye sure ye don't wanna get it checked?"

"If it had been bad, I would've passed out by now." I answered. At least I think that's how these things worked. Connor sighed, but didn't press the matter. "Yer wan's gonna hate ye."

"Whut? Why?"

"Ye kiddin? Fucking autopsy dat son of a bitch?" I whistled. "She doesn't look heavy enough ta lift his fuckin hand."

"Aye, we'll probably be hearing about dat later." he rubbed his face with his hand.

We pulled up to the place, and Conn checked my head one more time. I pushed his hand away.

"Get on outa dat. I'm fine. Got it?"

"Aye, alright den, I'm gonna go shower, den check on Mika."

"Why not combine da two?" I smirked and he threw the bird over his shoulder. I rolled my eyes and walked into the apartment, and leaned against the counter. Christ I was tired.

Blaine was sleeping on the couch, and a few bloody rags told me her stitches were out. Poor lass. There was silence for a few minutes, then the door opened and Tina walked in. I eyed her. "Where were ye?"

"Work? I had to work the six to one am shift." she answered, then she walked closer and her jaw dropped. "What happened?"

"Oh, I felt the puffed skin of my lip, "Well, bad news, got my ass handed ta me. Good news, killed dat man who attacked ye,"

"He's dead?"

"Aye."

"Isis." she muttered. "I shouldn't be so happy, but…" she trailed off and gave me a small smile. I smiled back. "You cleaned that out yet?" she asked, gesturing towards my cheek. Ah yes, the road fucking rash. I shook my head. "Here, let me, ya know, take care of it." she rummaged through a few cupboards, and finally emerged victorious…with honey. I stared at her.

"What?"

"Dat's honey…"

"Yeah, it works as a you know? Disinfectant. Egyptians have been using it since forever. My mom used to put it on my knees and stuff." she smiled and grabbed a washcloth, which she wet, then walked over to me.

She gently began to wash the dried blood off my face without causing it to start gushing.

"So, we're bein civil today den?" I asked. She sighed.

"I'm tired of fighting you Murphy. It's too much work. And we're both, you know, too good at it. No one ever wins. So I'm callin a you know, truce."

"Truce den?" I raised my eyebrow. She nodded.

"Yeah. Truce. We make better friends then enemies."

"Aye." I nodded. She put the rag down, then squeezed some honey on her pointer finger. She gently rubbed that across the cuts and I winced. Hurt a bit more then I expected it too. She smiled.

"Sorry, but it is a disinfectant." she giggled. "It, you know, stings."

"Just a bit." she finished covering the area of the cuts, then washed her hands. "So, keep that on, wash it off before you sleep though, so you don't, you know, get stuck to your bed."

"Aye, I'll remember to do just dat." I nodded. She walked past me.

"Night Murphy."

"Oh Tina." I reached out and grabbed her wrist. She turned back towards me.

"Yeah?"

"Thank ye, fer puttin me back together. Tonight, and last time. 'Ppreciate it." I smiled.

"It was my pleasure." she assured me. My hand slid from her wrist down to her hand, and her fingers intertwined with mine. She stared at me with those fucking trippy eyes, and I felt myself leaning it. Tina leaned towards me too, her lips getting closer-

"Fucking FBI bastard, callin all hours of the fucking night. On call my ass. I'm not on call until midnight." Mika came grumbling into the kitchen, hair a mess, and sleep in her eyes. I jump about ten feet and instantly put distance between Tina and myself.

"-Can't get a fucking break. No, it's fucking dead people all the time." Mika made her way towards the door.

Well, she's not a morning person…

"So, uh, goodnight Murphy." Tina mumbled, bounding up the stairs. I mumbled a 'night' back, and leaned against the table. Fuck, what the hell had that been?

What the fucking hell.

I groaned and rubbed the side of my face that didn't hurt, and when I opened my eyes, Blaine was staring at me, an evil grin on her face if I've ever seen one. I narrowed my eyes.

"How much did you see?" she yawned and stretched out on the couch.

"Enough to know that Connor owes me five bucks."

**Boy, I just keep turning the tables don't I? Anyhow, review please :D it would make me very happy, and you can tell me what you think of these crazy Irishmen!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note: Not gonna lie, this was hard for me to write, but detail wize, i tried to get it as realistic as possible, and i hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer!: I don't own the BDS, or anything else that you recognize! enjoy! **

Chapter 17: Coroner's Concerns

*Mika*

I rubbed my eyes as I shrugged into the oversized jacket with the yellow CORONER displayed on the back. And the police wondered why crowds broke out so fast. We displayed who we were, inviting nosy people to peek over the bright yellow tape.

I ducked under the yellow tape and carefully walked towards Smecker. It wasn't fair, he looked as posh and stylish as any man in GQ, and I looked like I was sent to work halfway through my walk of shame. He took a drink of his coffee and gave me a once over.

"Good morning Mika, hope I didn't pull you away from anything important."

"Just a horny Irishman, nothing too terribly important." I answered, looking down the alley. There was a huge mountain of a man, laid on his back, with pennies, and crossed arms. I growled. Figures, I'm _this_ close to getting laid, and the Saints swoop in and screw me over, by preventing me from being screwed over. Well, wasn't that nice. "What's this?"

"A crime scene…how tired are you?"

"No, I mean, where's the rest of them? This is weird, this is the second single body scene that the Saints have left. This guy, and the one guy we found tied up in that old building." I pulled my hair into a pony tail, and two gloves. I walked over to the body, Smecker behind me.

"What do you think?" he asked. I rolled my eyes, he already knew what happened, every piece of the scene told him everything. He totally knew everything. He just liked testing me.

"Well, my extensive medical training tells me that he died from the two bullets that flew through his head. The other…three shots subdued him, and lord." I sighed. "I don't even see the need to do an autopsy. However, since he's been murdered, legally, I gotta jump through those hoops." Smecker rolled his eyes.

"You complain a lot."

"Yeah, well, if I was as pretty as you, I wouldn't have to be so whiney." I answered as a crew came down with a gurney. CSU hurried up with their collecting of the pennies. "Any blood?"

"Ammonia." Smecker answered. I groaned under my breath.

"How are they always able to pull this off?"

The gurney crew pulled the massive man off the ground and onto the gurney. A yellow sheet followed the body almost instantly. I said a quick prayer for the dead man, my job sucked sometimes.

"Look, I'm going to go get started on the body alright? I'll call you if I find something out of order. Alright?"

"Sounds good Mika." he answered, staring confused at a blood puddle on the ground. I followed the crew, and they gave me a lift to my office.

Once the man was deposited onto my table, I got to work. I had to be on this, not only was this a medical-legal autopsy, this was yet another autopsy brought on by the Saints. I couldn't miss a single piece of evidence, a drop of drool would be the make or break at this point.

Although, I doubted the Saints would be drooling all over their dead murder victim. But hey, I could hope right?

Alright, step one: determine height, weight, approximate age. So height, I was looking at about, six foot seven. I scribbled down my guesses, and pulled out my voice recorder. It was easier to take notes this way, then write down anything extremely important that stands out to me.

"Ready?" I asked the man on my table. I didn't receive an answer. "Alright lets see what we got here." I struggled to get his jacket and shirt off. He was heavy, and I was maybe 130 pounds, soaking wet? I had definitely gotten my size from my Dad. I looked through his shirt, and folded it, and put it in a plastic bag labeled EVIDENCE. I put that on the table to my right, and looked through the pockets of his jacket, and pulled out some papers.

"Found in his right jacket pocket, discharge papers from St. Jude's. He was admitted for a gun shot wound to the shoulder. His name is Tyson Greys. Age: 32" I put the papers into their own bag, and the jacket into the other. Turning back to the body, I lifted up his left arm, and scanned the skin, there was blood spattering, but on the backside of his arms, which made sense, having your eyes blown out was messy. His right armed reveled the same thing. I examined his chest, taking pictures as I worked.

"Alright, so we have nothing noteworthy on Greys' chest. I'm flipping him over to examine his back." Easier said then done. He was larger then life, and it was a struggle, I finally got his on his side though, and broke a sweat doing it.

"Greys has a tattoo on his shoulder that reads 'The Ballad of Charlotte Dymond', possibly signifying his involvement with the Richardson gang. He also has a tattoo beneath that one, of a tank." I said, taking a picture of the tattoos. I set the camera down, and grabbed some ink and paper, and I took his prints down and put them in a folder.

I walked down to his feet, and I untied his shoes, and set them in a bag. I set those to the side, and unbuckled his belt.

_"Christ! Those are fuckin dead though!" Connor responded. I sniggered._

_"And blue, and puffy sometimes. But yes, I like your well chiseled abs Connor. They're sexy." I smirked up at him._

I sighed and continued to pull his pants off. Once those were off, I checked his pockets, and found a few hundred dollars, and a huge pocketknife. I put the pocketknife in a bag, and I tossed it on the table with the rest of his stuff. I threw it wrong though, and it knocked his boots of the table. I groaned and knelt down to pick it up, realizing that I would have to switch gloves. I picked up the bags, and saw a smear of blood in the bag.

"What the hell?" I murmured. There was a blood on the bottom of his shoe? How the hell was that possible. It was near the toe. If he had been on his knees, the blood would've gone the complete opposite way.

Then I realized that he'd been shot in his knee, meaning that he would've only been able to kneel down on one knee, meaning he was in the same position a man would be in if he was proposing.

Which means his foot got blood on it somehow.

Smecker was staring at that ammonia-tainted blood puddle.

Oh. My. God.

I had their blood. I had their blood in my hands.

Oh. My. God.

Uh, shit. I tore my gloves off, and called Smecker.

"What?" he barked into the phone.

"Did the blood puddle have a smear? Like someone stepped in it?" I asked, my heart racing.

"Yes?"

"Holy shit, Smecker get down here. As soon as you can." I hung up my phone, and grabbed the another pair of gloves. I had to finish his autopsy, and after that. I had a lab techie I needed to shake down.

I packaged all the evidence, observed his groin for signs of sexual abuse (there wasn't for the record) and opened him up, weighted all the organs, took blood samples, stomach contents, urine, and the brain. Or what was left of it. The Saints had blown the whole thing out pretty much.

The autopsy took all in all a few hours. And it was nearing five in the morning as I tied the knot on his chest. Done. Finally. I pushed the body into a cold chamber, and shut the door. Until later, Tyson Greys.

I grabbed the shoes and headed up a few flights of stairs, stopping outside of the lab. I pounded on the door.

Daryl opened the door, and winced. I smiled. "Daryl! How are you this morning!"

"What do you want Mika…"

"What do you have for today?"

"I have like six paternity tests. Why?" he asked warily. I held up my shoe bag.

"Wanna make history?"

"What…?"

"I need a rush on this. This is very, very possibly the Saint's DNA." I smiled. Daryl stared at me, then the shoes.

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright." he sighed and let me in. I walked into the lab, glad I worked with human beings, dead or not. Daryl seemed depressed all the time, and it probably had to do with working with only test tubes all day. He was brilliant, and stuck in the back corner of a building. He was also my best friend.

"Can't believe my luck!" I grinned. He rolled his eyes.

"Only you would be this lucky. Getting laid, and DNA within a twenty four hour time period."

"Only the DNA, the Saints, and my boyfriend's brother, proved to be excellent cockblocks." I groaned as Daryl took a sample of the blood in the bag.

"Well, damn, that sucks. So, what do you want me to run this through?"

"Everything! Interpool, hospital records, any and everything you can think of. Everything." I answered. He ran a hand though his short brown hair.

"That could take hours."

"Well, make it go faster. Much faster." I answered. He sighed.

"Get me a coffee, and a doughnut. And I'll print the report down to your lab. Deal?" he asked.

"Deal." I answered. He nodded, and I headed out the door, walking to the nearest coffee shop. I ordered all of Daryl's breakfast, then hurried it back towards him. I was stopped when I walked back in by Tana.

"Hey, Mik!" She called, stopping me. I looked at her.

"Yeah?"

"There's family downstairs, to identify your vic from this morning." she told me. I bit my lip. Man, I freaking hated having to show the body. The way people reacted to them.

"Alright…" I sighed, and handed Tana the coffee and doughnut. "Can you give that to Daryl? And just give him the coffee, don't drop to your knees today. He's busy." I winked as she turned bright red.

"That was one fuckin-you know what. Just go do work, alright?"

"Okay." I smiled and walked down the stairs. Leaning against the door, was a young man about my age, he looked up at me, and his eyes were full of anguish. He was covered in tattoos. From his neck, and down his arms. He pushed some shaggy black hair out of his eyes.

"Are you the coroner?" he asked me. He had a British accent, which made him a little hard to understand, but the idea came across. He was so sad.

"Yes, that's me. My name is Dr. Mokoto." I held my hand out and he shook it.

"Do, do you 'ave my Uncle?" he asked. I sighed.

"Well, this is how this works. You are going to stand there, and I'm going to show you the body thorough the window. Alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I understand." he answered. His eyes got very shiny.

"What's your name?" I asked. He looked down.

"Cromwell, 'Unter Cromwell." he answered. I raised my eyebrow.

"Well, Hunter, I'm sorry about this." I put my hand on his shoulder. "How did you get here so fast?"

"I 'ave some friends on the force, they saw my uncle and told me to check it out." he answered, a tear finally escaping his eyes. I opened my mouth to say something, but a cop walked towards us then. I swallowed my words. The cop was here to confirm if it truly was Tyson Greys. We could put a name, and start a background search on the latest Saint victim.

"Alright, well, just wait here alright." I told him, and I walked back inside my room. I pulled Greys body out of the cold chamber, and wheeled him towards the window. I pulled the cloth down, and realized too late that the Saints made it impossible to have this be non-scarring. I had cleaned the blood and gore off him, but it didn't change the face that the normally handsome face had to giant sinking holes in his face. I frowned and whispered a prayer for him and his nephew. I walked over to the window, and pulled the blinds up.

"Oh my God." Hunter moaned through the glass. "Tyson!"

Well, guess we had a confirmed I.D.

The kid on the other side of the glass, gripped the glass, and tears snuck out of his eyes. I turned back towards the body, and covered him. There was no need to scar the kid. I closed the blinds, and returned the body to the cold chamber. I went back outside, where the kid was pawing away his tears.

"That's…that's 'im. That's my uncle." he nodded towards the cop. The cop took down the information.

"We can arrange it for the body to be released to you once you've made preparations." I told him. He nodded at me.

"I can be back later, with some friends. We'll take 'im then." the boy was incredibly out of it.

"You one of his friends?" I asked the cop. He nodded. "Alright, make sure he gets home alright." I told him.

"Of course doctor." he answered with a very Boston accent. I nodded, and the cop lead the boy away. I went back into my morgue and sat down in a chair, tears welling in my eyes.

_Those cowards! Those fucking cowards! How could they claim to be a good men, when they destroy lives. That boy just lost his uncle, and where are the Saints? Hiding God knows where, virtually unharmed. Laughing it up._

Well, not exactly unharmed. One of them had to be hurt, I mean, assuming that puddle of blood was theirs. Could very well be Greys. Although, I might've jumped the gun. God I hoped not. I had been dealing with the Saints since the beginning. And I needed to know that we were making some in their case.

"Mika?" Smecker asked as he walked in, one look at my tear stained face and he sighed. "Letting emotion and job mix again?"

"Yeah, well, I don't know. It's a little embarrassing." I answered. "It's been a long seven hours." I shrugged, realizing that we were nearing close to nine in the morning. I was sad, tired, and really really needed a huge. Fat chance Smecker would be handing those out thought.

"Yes, obviously one of those days it would seem." he agreed, and patted my head. Well, that's better then nothing I supposed. I smiled up at him.

"Silver lining though, I might have Saint DNA." I smiled. He stared at me.

"Do you really think so?"

"There's a very good chance, yeah." I smiled. He just shook his head. As if to contradict him, my printer roared to life, I jumped from my seat. "Thank you Daryl!"

I grabbed the sheets of paper from the printer and scanned through them.

No match in interpool. So the Saints have never been arrested before.

No match in MED's office. So they weren't dead.

No match in-wait, hold on.

There was a hit from the hospital. I pulled that sheet and read it carefully.

_No exact match. _Shit.

_On partial match. _Hell yeah! Now, to who?

_MacManus, Connor D._ it was printed on the paper, but I couldn't believe it.

That wasn't possible.

It couldn't be possible.

Smecker stared at me. "You alright Mika, you look very pale…"

"It's them." I whispered. He raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"He was in the hospital, because he got shot. They had his blood. They had-partial match, it's…last night…" I choked out.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's fucking Connor and Murphy." I snarled. He opened his mouth, then it hit me, like a rock to the head. "But, you already knew that…"

"Pardon?"

"Connor came in with you. He flipped out when he saw the Saint body. That one had only one shooter, Murphy wasn't there. Murphy and Connor left last night, Greys died last night. It's a partial match to Connor. The hospital had his blood. On record, because he snuck away." everything I came up with made perfect sense, and it broke my heart. "No one can touch them, because you're making them untouchable. You're protecting them. You're letting them do this."

Irish

Brothers

Killers

I threw the paper on the counter, and grabbed my coat.

"Mika stop!" Smecker commanded me. I turned on him.

"How could you? You're supposed to uphold the law! You're supposed to protect people! All people, not just some people! You're a protector! You're no better then the corrupted cops you had taken out a few months ago." I snarled. He stared at me, but I ignored him. My jacket was on, and my mind made up.

.:.

I pounded on the door, looking at my watch. Nine thirty, likelihood of them being awake, eh, not very.

Blaine opened the door, eyes bleary and confused. "Mika?"

"Hey, I need to talk to Connor. It's pretty important." I told her. She shrugged, and let me enter. I walked past Murphy's not girlfriend sitting at the table, sketching something on a piece of paper. I bounded up the stairs, and walked right into Murphy. Who was just walking out of the shower, judging from the wet hair, and the only wearing jeans.

"Mika? You alright?" he asked, toweling his hair, I watched him wince and jerk away from the towel. When he lowered it, I saw blood on it.

"Hit your head?"

"Slipped on some ice. Got cold last night. Connor thought it was funny as hell." he shrugged.

"You-you should probably get that checked out." I told him, and walked past him. He stared at me, but I was already knocking on Connor's door.

"Da hell?" he mumbled as he opened the door. I froze. He was only wearing his boxers. I took a deep breath.

"I need to talk to you." I told him. He stared at me, then gestured for me to come it.

"What's goin on now?" he asked as he closed his door. I took a deep breath.

"I need to talk to you."

"About?" he scratched his head. Damn he was cute.

He was a killer.

He was cute.

Still a killer.

Still cute.

"Tyson Greys." I finally managed to say. He raised an eyebrow.

"Who?"

"The man that you and Murphy killed last night." I told him. The sleep left his eyes, and there was shock all over his face.

"_What?_"

"About six foot seven. He had an arm in a sling."

"Mika-"

"I don't know how Murphy hit his head. But it got on Greys' shoe before you sprayed it. It matched the sample that they took from you at the hospital. So, it logically has to be Murphy. Unless there's a MacManus triplet I should know about." Connor looked at the ground.

"Look, Mika…"

"Don't. Don't try to justify what you did. You can't. You killed that man didn't you?"

"Aye." he sighed. My entire would stopped. It was true, Connor was a Saint. So was Murphy. It didn't make sense, but at the same time, it made perfect sense. I groaned. It couldn't be possible.

I had kissed a killer.

I had been damn close to sleeping with a killer.

I had fallen for a killer. Hard.

"Why, why would you do this?" I asked. He closed his eyes.

"They get away with everything, they kill people. That man was in a group that shot me! They're the ones who hurt Blaine! They're don't get caught. They can't be touched. But me and Murphy, we can get them. We give them what they deserve."

"What they deserve? Who are you to decide what they deserve! Wrath, wrath is one of the seven deadly sins Connor." I spat. He glared at me.

"What about justice huh? How many people has that man killed? How many people would he have killed? He held his foot above my brother's fucking head! He was going to kill Murphy! Should I have sat there and let him crush him?"

"Should his nephew have had to sit in the morgue, and identify his uncle's body!" I countered, voice rising. "Besides! He was countering your attack! Your attack! Self defense much! Christ!"

"Self defense? Self fucking defense! It was fucking self defense when these Russian broke inta my house, handcuffed me ta a fuckin toilet, and took my brother from me. Dey were goin ta fucking shoot him in the head. Among garbage. They were going ta kill my bother!"

"And last night? You took revenge on some man for something completely unrelated? Connor, what the hell! I can't fucking believe this!"

"What else?" he snapped. I glared. "Why does this bother you?"

"It bothers me, because you decide if these men should live or die based on their past. You walk a very fine line Connor. A very fine, dangerous line. If you fucking cross it…"

"Cross it? Me and Murphy know what we're doing." he sighed, running a hand through his hair. I flopped down on his bed. He knelt down in front of me, and grabbed my face with his hands. I tried to look away, but he wasn't having it. "Mika, I'm still me, that hasn't changed."

"Yes it has. I've seen your carnage. I've had to sit there as wives and kids identify their fathers, brother's, _sons_. I've seen what you're capable of and-"

"What else?" he asked. His eyes drilled into my mine.

"What?"

"What else?"

"It's you." I answered. "It's you. You have people shooting at you, people who want nothing more then you dead. I-I can't suddenly develop a fear of body bags. I can't unzip a bag and have it be you Connor. I can't have you in my morgue. I can't have to pull bullets out of your chest. I can't have Murphy identify your body. I can't do it. And more then anything, I can't cut you open and pretend I don't know who you are. I can't. I can't be with you." I finally whispered. He winced.

"Don't-"

"No." I interrupted. "No, you don't get a say in this. You can't have a say. Because I'm scared. I'm scared, and I'm mad, and I'm confused, because damn it, I really liked you. I really really liked you. A lot. Possibly more then like, possibly. I won't ever know, because blood, and bullets, and death. I can't be a part of this. I can't." Connor dropped his hands, and I pushed him away and walked to his door.

"Mika, please, reconsider, please?" he asked me. I couldn't turn around. I couldn't. I wouldn't be able to walk away if I looked. I wouldn't.

So I didn't.

"Be careful Connor. Be very careful." I whispered. He sighed. A very painful sounding sigh. I turned the doorknob, and Murphy and Blaine crashed into the room, looking very very guilty.

"Enjoy the fucking show?" Connor snarled, his voice thick, and it broke for a second. Blaine made excuses but Murphy stared at me hard, his eyes sad but angry at the same time.

"Like I said Murphy. Get your head checked." I whispered, then walked past him, out the door, and back towards my office.

I got two blocks before I realized I was crying.

.:.

I pushed the door open to the morgue, and walked over to my chair, I collapsed and started sobbing. Oh God, this wasn't fair.

I might possibly have been falling for a vigilante killer. A killer, who was a good person, and cared about his family more then anything.

But he was a killer.

He took in a suicidal teenager without question, he looked out for others, he took me to pub and made me give a toast on a table, in a skirt.

But he was a killer.

He made me feel beautiful, he found the sweet spot on my neck in twenty seconds flat, he liked it rough. He was perfect.

But he was a killer.

I wiped my eyes, looked over to the printer, and saw that there was no paper there. Of course there wouldn't be. Smecker took my evidence. If I called Daryl, he would tell me an FBI agent requested the DNA sample. Connor would walk, Murphy would walk. They were untouchable.

But, of course he would.

He was a killer. And for some magic reason. Killers, the good ones, they never got caught.

**So there it is! review por favor! it truly does make my day, and if you don't, well, i'll just...you know, i don't know xD just review please!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note: Was sick all day, had the chance to upload. i took it. anyways, this is killing me. this is a filler, sure, but the next few coming up are gonna rock some worlds, and let me tell you a secret, i think that my story's almost done! time flies right? anyways, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer!: i don't own BDS or the Richardson gang!**

Chapter Eighteen: Best Brothers and Broken British Bastards

*Murphy*

"AND ANOTHER THING? HOW THE FUCK DO YOU NOT NOTICE BLOOD? FUCKING BLOOD! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU NOT SEE THE MAN YOU'RE ABOUT TO KILL WITH HIS FOOT IN YOUR BLOOD? HOW FUCKING RETARDED TO YOU HAVE TO BE? I MEAN CHRIST! ARE YOU THAT BORED OF BEING FREE MEN?" Smecker yelled at the two of us. People turned to stare at us, but we were in Boston's very own 'Hoover Ville' and only a few drug addicts seemed to actually notice he was screaming at us.

"What would ye have had me do Smecker?" Connor growled. "Sit there and wipe his feet off while Murphy bled out on da ground! That would've been much fucking harder to clean up!"

"Maybe you don't understand what almost happened to the two of you. If I hadn't gotten that report from Mika's office," Connor's wince did not go unnoticed by me or Smecker "then your asses would've been hauled to the Hoag! Do you even comprehend what would happen to you there?" I winced. All this yelling was not mixing so well with the headache I was nursing.

"Look, instead of reaming us for what almost happened, why don't we just move on and know better for next time?" I asked, in a vain attempt to get the screaming to stop. Smecker glared at me.

"Oh, you'd better learn. Mika is going to be on her game like never before. You leave even the barest trace of anything on any body, and you're done. She's had a confirmed match of your fucking DNA."

"Can she go ta da police with it?" Connor asked.

"No, she can't. I took her report, and the blood sample. Which had to be carefully excluded from the report. But I can tell you that we have lost a very valuable ally. She's great at what she does. She won't work with me anymore, we'll have to try our luck with getting her to talk to Duffy or Dolly. Greenly, well, he hits on her too much. She finds it annoying. And he'll go insane now that he knows she's on the rebound." I looked down, and saw Connor's nails slice into his fucking palm. _Shut the hell up Smecker_ I prayed.

"Do we have anything else?" I asked, sticking my thumb nail in between my teeth.

"Well, we had a family member claim Greys body. He gave a name to a beat cop. Hunter Cromwell, and according to the cop, he was tattooed up, neck down to his arms, and he had a British accent."

"Sounds like we've a had a sighting of the boss then?" I asked.

"Or are we bein lead down another fucking goose chase? That one thug, he told us dat the Richardson's have people in every fucking office possible. Could've been on of dere cops. Is there anyone else dat talked to the kid?" Connor threw out there. Smecker shook his head.

"Mika was the one who delt with him, and I doubt she'll be willing to talk. And I had Greenly run the name, and Hunter Cromwell doesn't exist. But there's a chance he changed his name because of the place. I don't know where to go from here." Smecker admitted. Connor ran his hand through his hair, and I bit through the skin of my thumb.

"So what da fuck do we do?" I mumbled. Smecker shrugged.

"We wait. Hopefully, they don't know where you two are. And if they do, well, have your guns on you at all times. And keep security tight." he told us. "Now, I'm actually working here, so I have to go before anyone notices I'm gone. Get home, stay safe." Smecker told us, as he turned and walked away.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" Connor growled.

"Aye, I second dat." I sighed, as me and Connor walked back towards our place. "We're fucked."

"We're totally fucked. Not just us either. Blaine, Tina, Mika, we're all fucked." His face fell. "What if dey go after her Murph? There's no one there to protect her."

"If they're still watchin us, then they'll know dat ye aren't with her anymore. They'll have no reason ta hurt her."

"They didn't have a fuckin reason ta hurt Blaine. Did it anyways." He mumbled.

"I'm sorry." I told him. He shrugged.

"Can't do shit about it now." he sighed, and pulled out two cigarettes. He patted his pockets and swore. "Hand me a lighter would ye?"

I winced, and handed him the cheap cherry lighter I had bought at the hospital. He took it and stared me down.

"It's shit like dis dat had me defending yer sexuality in high school." he shook his head and lit the two smokes, and passed one off to me.

"Da fuck you talking about?" I asked. "I recall getting as much tail as yerself."

"Aye, but dey slept wit me cuz I was manly. Dey slept wit ye because ye were 'sensitive' or some other fuckin thing." he sniggered. I rolled my eyes.

"T'was da easiest way ta get dem in me bed, brother. Ye had ta show off and work for it. All I had ta do was let dem cry on my shoulder for a few hours, and I had me a night."

"Ye were a fuckin molly boy."

"Fuck yerself." I growled. "T'wasn't all dat molly."

.:.

I flopped down on my bed and groaned. My head was fucking killing me. I'd had my head beat more then enough times, and normally the pain would be gone by now. But instead, I was stuck in my room, with the blinds drawn because the light was fucking killing me. I was slipping in and out of consciousness, until finally, I passed out.

_I pounded on her door, shifting the bag of food I held in my hand. I hadn't heard from her in three days, so logically, she was either really into what she was working on, or she was dead. _

_I was really hoping for the former. _

"_Come on lass! Open the door." I called, pounding on it again._

"_It's unlocked!" answered me. I rolled my eyes. A'course it was. She never ever locked her door. I pushed the door opened and dumped the food on her counter. There was a thick haze of smoke in her place, and the chocking incense was packed into her small apartment. I stared through the smoke and saw her staring at a blank canvas. I laughed to myself and walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her waist. _

"_Hey stranger." I murmured into her neck. She giggled. _

"_Has it been a while?"_

"_Three days." I smiled. _

"_Huh…has it really?" she asked. "That's crazy."_

"_Aye. When was da last time ye ate?" _

"_Uhh…when were you over last?" she asked. I rolled my eyes. _

"_Three days ago."_

"_Oh well, there you go." she laughed and turned so she was facing me. "That why you're here? To remind me to, you know, eat?"_

"_Aye." I pressed a kiss against her lips. "What kinda person am I if I don't remind ye ta eat."_

"_You have something in mind?"_

"_Dat meat stuff ye made? Ye know, with da powdered sugar?"_

"_The B'stella and meatballs?"_

"_Aye. Dat's da stuff."_

"_I don't have any of the stuff." she pouted apologetically. I gestured towards her kitchen, and the bag of food I brought. "Yer domain awaits woman!" _

"_You're such a jerk. Isis." she smiled and lead me to the kitchen. _

"_Isis? Are ye seriously dat Egyptian?" I asked. She rolled her eyes. _

"_Full Egyptian yes. But I don't worship the Gods. No one does anymore. But my dad he used to take like, archeologists down in the pyramids. He learned about all the Gods, and he used to come home and teach me about them. Then all the archeologists turned into looters, and he realized he like, raped his culture, you know? So he started using the Gods names as cuss words. And wouldn't you know that's what I picked up." she smiled at me, then lit her stove. _

"_Aye, well, it's definitely interesting." I smiled. "How's Egypt anyways?"_

"_My mom called yesterday."_

"_Aye? And how's Ma Chambers?"_

"_She asked me if I had a boyfriend. Like always." she told me. I raised my eyebrow. _

"_And what'd ye tell her?"_

"_I told her I had someone who reminded me to eat." She winked at me. I smiled back at her. _

"_And what'd yer ma say ta dat?"_

"_She said that I did, you know, good." Tina smiled. I raised my eyebrow. I had never called her my girlfriend, but it was implied right? Looked like she picked up on that. _

"_Ye know what?" I asked, moving behind her. She smirked at my reflection in her microwave._

"_What?"_

"_I'm thinking dat, dis food can wait a bit, aye?" I whispered, kissing her neck. She wiggled a little, her ass pressing against Macho Murph._

_Yeah, it's called Macho Murph. Ye think dat's bad, ye should ask Connor about Genghis Conn sometime. _

"_Aren't you hungry?" she asked. Suddenly her hips were moving to a rhythm. I stifled a groan. _

"_It can wait." I murmured into her neck, hands gripping her hips. "But I can't. after all, it has been three days…" she sniggered, and turned towards me. Her hands slid under my shirt and her mouth found mine. _

"_What kind of person am I if I didn't indulge the person who reminds me to eat?" she laughed. My hands slid under the back of her shirt, tracing over the tattooed skin there. She made a mewling sound._

"_Ye know lass, ye can call me yer boyfriend. I think dat'd be fine." I told her. Her smile widened, and she tugged on my shirt. _

"_If you wanna call me yer girlfriend. You're going to have to, ya know, work for it."_

I shot awake, and shook my head. Holy fucking shit.

As I was trying to remember where I was, my stomach lurched and I made a mad fucking dash for the bathroom. I dropped to my knees in front of the porcelain goddess, and gagged, seeing as I hadn't eaten all day, the only thing that came up was stomach acid.

"Calma síos deartháir, tá tú ceart go leor." _Calm down brother, you're _alright. Connor's cold hand pressed against my shoulder, I jumped slightly, I hadn't even heard him come it.

I opened my mouth to answer, and instead, was stuck with another wave of gagging. Connor shook his head.

"Come on Murphy. Calm down. What's wrong wit ye?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I haven't a clue." I finally managed. He sighed and rubbed my back.

"It's prolly yer fucking head. I told ye dat ye only had a few more hits left. Now it's starting ta fucking matter."

"Ehh." I moaned. I turned away from the goddess and leaned my head back. "Hey, Conn?"

"Aye?"

"I'm sorry." I whispered. He furrowed his brow.

"Da hell for?"

I closed my eyes. "Fer leavin blood. Having it be yer wan who figured it out. I'm sorry. I know ye really liked dat one." Connor just looked away. His eyes were hard, and empty. I realized then, that my brother was just absorbing the hits now.

He was just taking it, and taking it. Connor was never someone to just take it. He was bottling it all up, Connor was slowly becoming a caged animal, and if there was one thing I remember, it was the last time this happened.

Connor had beat the shit out of three of the guys at school. They'd picked him for some reason, and they just annoyed the shit out of him all year. All fucking year. I told him to stand up for himself, but he just let them bug him. All fucking year. Then, one day, Connor snapped, beat the shit out of all of them. When the principle found them, Connor had been leaning against the wall, nose broken, black eyes, and split lip. Which had been spread into a grin.

It had been scary as hell.

I hated seeing Conn like that. Sitting there and taking it. He needed a release. He hated being caged. So I did the only thing I knew how to do.

I poked the bear.

I knelt down in front of Connor, and flicked him. He smacked my hand away and gave me his 'what the fuck' face. I grinned, and smacked him upside the head. He growled and threw a punch at my stomach, which I dodged, then, I punched him square across the jaw.

Holy fucking shit, he got _pissed_.

Connor jumped up and punched me in the stomach again, this time, he got me, and I groaned. I used my left hand to repeat the motion for him. He pushed me against the bathroom counter, and threw me a punch across the face.

It was at this point, that I realized my plan was working, and I stopped throwing hits, and just focused on dodging Conn's blows. He was content with beating the shit out of me for a few more minutes, before he just stopped, and leaned against the wall, across from me.

"Feel better do ye?" I asked, wiping some blood off my face. Connor nodded.

"Ye know, I really do." he smiled, and pressed his forehead against mine. Something he hadn't done since we were kids. "Yer a good brother."

"Aye, I know. Tis an older brother thing." I answered. "Now, let's go get fucking buckled."

"Amen ta dat!" Connor grinned and went to get his jacket. I shook my head as I walked downstairs. Tina looked up from her sketch pad and her eyes went huge.

"What happened to your face?"

"Dat would be some brotherly bonding." I smiled. She got up from the table and walked over to me, she gently touched my nose, and I winced.

"He beat the shit out of you. What'd you, you know, do?" she asked, her bracelets jingling as she lowered her hands.

"He just needed something ta hit." I shrugged. Then, without thinking, I pressed my lips gently against hers. "We're going out for a bit, so keep the door locked, aye? You and Blaine stay safe." I walked towards the door. I glanced behind me, and her face was shell shocked, but her fingers were touching her lips.

"Connor! Let's fucking go!"

*Boss*

The Boss did not run a crime family, so much as an organization. He ran an organization. To be completely honest, he was the only real Richardson in the syndicate at this point. And, as the Boss, he understood that everyone in his organization was expendable.

Everyone. Including Tank.

Tank understood the risks, just as much as any of the Boss' lower status thugs. And Tank was expendable.

So, as a Boss, he understood how lucky it was that they had killed Tank. Tank wouldn't speak a word of any gang activity, even staring death in the face. So it had been a blessing that Tank had been the one to be killed

As a Boss, he did not mourn Tank in the slightest.

But Hunter? Hunter missed Tyson.

Tyson had been the one who found him, half starved in the gutters of London. Hunter had cornered the man, too hungry to even realize how much bigger Tyson was then his 12 year old form. Tyson had taken one look at the way Hunter had held the knife, and he laughed. Tyson had lead the half dead boy to his flat, and took care of him. Got him back to health. And then found out his name.

"_Me name?" Hunter asked, looking down at the ground. "Me name's "Unter Richardson sir." The large man who had introduced himself as Tyson raised an eyebrow._

"_Richardson huh?"_

"_Yes sir. 'Unter Richardson."_

"_That's very interesting Hunter. How would you feel about making something out of your life?"_

"_Sounds great…but…" Hunter trailed off. Tyson stared at him. _

"_You, my young friend, have a very important name. very important. And using that name, we have the opportunity to create something out of a syndicate that's become nothing but a group of minor thieves. I can make you something great boy. The real question is, are you interested?" _

"_Absolutely." Hunter answered. "Just tell me what I have to do."_

Tyson had taught Hunter everything he needed to know.

How to get a girl in his arms fast.

How to choose a good cigar. None of that cheap crap. The good stuff.

How to use a knife.

And the most important, how to stare into someone's eyes as you killed them. Using a knife is a very personal murder. You can feel the blade sink into skin, touch bone, blood would flow onto your hand. They would stare into your eyes as their life ebbed away.

Tank had raised and groomed Hunter into exactly what the Richardson's needed in a leader. And Hunter would never forget that. He would never be able to repay Tyson now.

He could only avenge him.

"Those damn mother fuckers." The Boss hissed, biting into his lip hard enough to draw blood. He was quiet sure he looked like a monster. Blood running down his face, sitting in the darkness of his office. He was sure he looked like a monster.

"Boss?" A startlingly soft voice entered the air. The Boss looked over towards Chelsea, and her massive eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked. Chelsea walked in, and parked her ass on his desk. She ran a finger over his bleeding lips and licked his blood off her finger.

"I wanted to see 'ow the Boss was doing."

"Boss is just fine, Tank understood the risks."

"Great. Now, 'ow 'Unter?"

"'Unter's fucking 'eartbroken." He snarled. She nodded slowly. "I want revenge."

"So take it. You know where they are, they're pretty much sitting ducks. I don't understand why you've let them live this long as it where." she sighed, and started at her incredibly long fingernails. Hunter sighed.

"I told you before. We're using them for two purposes. One, we'll 'ave a much smoother transition into the crime ring in Boston if they're dead, and two. We need to let the other syndicates around here know we're not fucking around 'ere. What better way to do that, then break down the Saints into nothing." He answered. "But now, well, I want to move our plan along faster then intended." Chelsea nodded.

"So kill one of them." Hunter snorted.

"I want revenge, not a mass murder. They're two fucking close to just kill one without containing the other. We'll end up in a fucking genocide. Not the best idea. I just want them to sit through the same kind of pain I've 'ad to today. I want them to 'urt." he snarled.

"They're surrounded by people they love. All you 'ave to do is pick." Chelsea shrugged. "Get a few men and take care of it."

"No, no." Hunter murmured. "We're still running a business 'ere, and I won't have my soldiers being used for a personal reason. That seems almost like a waste. No, this will 'ave to be a side project."

"Use me." She said, readjusting her black tank top, her tattoo on her shoulder contrasted with her pale as death skin. "All you 'ave me do 'ere is torture. And you 'aven't 'ad anyone for me to play with in a few weeks. I get restless."

"I know you've gotten restless. You've cut 'ow many of my lower status thugs?" he spat.

""Ey now, I was only practicing the Chelsea Smile." she grinned, her innocent eyes battling with the wicked grin on her face.

"Yeah, well, practice on the dead ones."

"They don't bleed the same. It's not as fun."

"You're insane." Boss muttered as he started at her. Her wicked grin grew even deeper.

"Not insane, just…broken." she shook her head. "Anyways, let me do your revenge thing. I've been itching to 'ave some fun, and the Saints would make great toys." she licked her lips as she envisioned their pain filled screams, the horrified looks on their faces as she punished their brother, the color of their damn Mick blood as it flowed freely around her combat boots. Oh their blood. She could almost _taste_ it. It would be different. It would be so different.

The Boss stared at her, and the pure evil that was washed over her face. Not a bad idea, not a bad idea at all.

"Alright, but if you're with the Saints, what will I be doing?" he asked. She grinned wider.

"Well, you want revenge right? That's what you'll be doing. Like I said, they've surrounded themselves with people they care about didn't they? So 'ere's what we do, we lay low for a month or so, let them drop their guards, and then, we shake them to their very core."

Hunter leaned back in his chair, as he considered her words. Her plan had so much potential, potential that was ice cold in his mind as it broke into a plan. He knew what he was going to do. And it was going to be perfect. It would be the only thing left, he could break the Saints, and make a name for himself at the same time.

He pulled out a cigar, one of Tyson's favorites, and Chelsea lit it for him.

""Ere's to Tyson. And everything he's done for us."

"To Tyson." She repeated, and held the flame over her hand, watching her skin burn.

_Just like the Saints will_ she promised herself.

**So, i am seriously freaked by chelsea, and i'm not afraid to admit that. and oooh look, some murphy/tina flashbacks? how lovely. and seeing as Tina is kinda a personality in my head, she would just like to say that House Of Anubis, is singlehandedly ruining her culture. anyhoo, please read and review :D we love reading them!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long! What can i say? Junior year is a bitch, fellow 16 year olds, can I get an AMEN?...anyways...I'm sorry about the writers block, and i'm sorry this probably isn't my best work, but hey, what can i say? i'm not a torture master. either or, enjoy!**

**Dislcaimer!: I don't own the BDS!**

Chapter 19: The Twin Theory

*Connor*

"Halleluiah! Halle-fucking-luiah!" Murphy muttered from behind me, as he pulled out the lightly dusted black duffle bags we had been ordered not to touch. I swear, Smecker treated us like retarded children sometimes.

He decided for us, that we were going to take a while off. And apparently, in Smecker-land, that meant that we were confined to our apartment…for two fucking months.

Two. Fucking. Months.

Strangely enough, it hadn't been as much of a hell as the last time we had been confined to an apartment. Murphy had spent most of our imprisonment high, having downed what was left of our communal pain killers. Luckily, his head recovered, mostly.

Tina didn't cause much trouble, she cleaned, lass could cook as well, and she left for work, came back, and stayed out of our way pretty much. She was an ideal roommate. All of this I had expected though. What I hadn't expected was what was wrong with Blaine.

In the last two months, Blaine had retreated into some kind of shell, and she had barely spoken in the last few days. I was starting to get worried, it wasn't normal for that girl to just sit there and stare into space. When I had talked to Murphy about it, he'd just rolled his eyes. "She's a teenager Conn, tis normal for her ta flip from happy ta sad ta weird as hell. Ye did it enough when ye were a kid."

Either way, I was worried. She had 180'd her personality completely.

"Alrigh' we're outta oil ain't we?" Murphy sighed, and looked through the bag. "Fuck, I think we have some more somewhere, I'mma go check it out." He slapped my back, and headed out of the room. Shit we better not be out. We had a hit tonight, and I'd be fucked if we missed it.

As much as I wanted to nail those mother fucking Richardsons, I was half relieved that we were only hitting the Italians tonight. I needed to put distance between them, and my family.

"Connor?" I looked towards the door, and Blaine gave me a small smile. She awkwardly stood there, swaying back and forth on her feet.

"Well what're ye waitnin for Blaine?" I smiled. "Get yer ass in here, tell me what's on yer mind." Blaine walked in, and sat down next to me. I wrapped my arm around her and squeezed.

"Don't go." she whispered. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"What?"

"On your hit, don't go. Please. Not today."

"What da fuck not?'

"I have a really bad feeling about today. Please don't go."

"Blainey," I smiled "Ye ain't never been worried about this before. And ye ain't got a reason ta worry, me and Murphy got this under control. No fucking worries."

"I know you're capable, just, don't do it today." she turned towards me, pleading with me. "I have such a bad feeling!"

"What are ye getting on about?"

"I've just got a really bad feeling. I've had it for a while now. Something bad Connor, something very very bad. You just can't go tonight. You can't!"

"Calm down lass!" I got off my bed and knelt down in front of her. "Look, me and Murphy don't screw around, we're very serious about this. We'll be fine." Blaine looked unconvinced.

"Just do it tomorrow."

"They ain't meeting tomorrow. We will be fine Blaine. I swear."

"You can't promise that."

"The fuck I can't." I smirked. "Have some faith in us lass? We've done this for a while."

"It's not you I'm worried about…"

"Well, don't worry about anything." I smiled. "That way, problem solved." Blaine stared at me, and I could've swore she had tears in her eyes. She shook her head, and they were gone.

"Alright…" she whispered. I pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"We'll be back before you know it. Twenty four hours at the most." I promised. "And Greenly promised to stop by every few hours, that way, ye and Tina don't have ta worry about a thing." She just nodded. I ruffled her hair. "Smile Blainey, it suits ye better."

"Whatever you say Conn." She gave me a smile. Ha! Success!

"OY! CONNOR! I FOUND SOME, BUT THEN I SAT DOWN, AND NOW I DON'T WANNA MOVE! GET YER LAZY ASS DOWN HERE, AND WE'LL OIL SHIT UP!" Murphy yelled from downstairs. I rolled my eyes.

"WHICH ONE OF US IS DA LAZY ASS! MOTHER FUCKER!" I yelled back, grabbing both bags, and pressed another kiss against Blaine's head. "See ye in twenty four hours lass."

"Right." She nodded. "Hey Connor…"

"Aye?"

"I love you. Both of you. I just wanted to let you know that." She gave a wobbly smile, and slowly walked out of the room. Something was wrong there. Very wrong.

Sadly, God had another plan for what I would be doing that evening.

"CONNOR! CHRIST BOY! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YE DOING!"

"LORDS NAME! AND SHUT THE FUCK UP MURPHY! YOU'RE THE FUCKIN LAZY BASTARD WHO WON'T WALK UP THE STAIRS."

.:.

Christ, I forgot how much I hated Italians. Fucking language, fucking mafia.

"Murph! Be wide!" I called out to him. He ducked a bullet.

"Fuckin Wops! How the hell did they get so fuckin good at shooting!" he called back as a spray of bullets attacked the wall he was hidden behind. I was leaned against an ancient brick fireplace, pretty much snipering the Mafiosos off.

Why they insisted on meeting us in basements, I'll never understand. What the fuck was wrong with these mother fuckers? When me and Murphy had snuck in, we'd been lost in a fucking labyrinth of mazes. It reminded me of a dungeon. Complete with fire chandeliers, fucking cells, and chains attached to the walls. What the fuck is wrong with these people?

I looked up, and a light went off in my head. "Murphy! Bhuail an Cellar fíon taobh thiar duit!" I screamed at him in Gaelic. Murphy! Hit the wine cellar behind you!

"What?"

"Do it!" I screamed. Murphy popped out from behind the wall and shot the shit out of the barrels of wine these fellas had in their basement. The mobsters were moved foreword to avoid the torrent of sweet liquid.

"Fucking idiots!" one of them yelled. I smirked.

I popped out of my hiding place, and shot rapid fire at the chain that held up one of the fire chandeliers. The thing came crashing down, sending the Italians into a burning inferno. The dungeon wasn't as medieval as I thought, because a torrent of water came pouring down from the ceiling, until the fire was quenched.

Murphy stared at shock at the smoking pile of people. "Holy shit…"

"Aye…"

He stared at me. "What fucking movie was that from?"

"Wasn't a movie. Hop Frog. Edgar Allen Poe." I answered. "Never thought dat Sister Mary and her morbid obsession with dat man would end up savin our lives."

"Fuckin' Poe? Seriously?" he shook his head. "Fuck. That was fucking insane."

"Aye."

"Shit." he shook his head. "Maybe I oughta start reading Poe." I walked over to the group of Italians, and Murphy stood next to me.

"And shepherds we shall be.

For thee, my lord, for thee

Power hath descended forth from thy hand

That our feet may swiftly carry out thy command

And we shall flow a river forth to thee

And teeming with souls shall it ever be

In nomneni Patris, Et Fili, Et Spiritus Scanti."

Murphy and I each placed a penny on the ground next to the group of people. I exhaled deeply, holy shit. That was one hell of a rush.

"Shit." Murphy repeated, surveying the scene once more. "If Mika didn't hate ye before. She sure as fuck will now." I glared at him, and brought my hand upside his head.

"Just shut the hell up would ye? Let's get ta the hotel. I need ta shower…and throw up." I groaned. Murphy laughed at me.

"Alright, let's get the fuck out. Ye know, Smecker's probably gonna rip us a new asshole."

Murphy lead us out of the basement the same way we came in, then he went left, and I went right, he went left.

I walked slowly, trying to calm down. The last thing I needed was to be noticed, so I pulled out a smoke, and lit the thing, with my non-gay lighter, I might add. I took a deep drag, and continued my trek through the night, blowing out smoke.

I finally reached the hotel, and leaned against the door to my room. Figures, fucking Macho Murph had the key. I sighed, and glanced around. Regular run of the mill shithole if ye ask me. There was the distinct smell of pot surrounding the area, probably from the abandoned building across the way. I wasn't a fan of this place.

"Miss me?" Murphy asked, suddenly next to me. I jumped and smacked him upside his head once more. "Fuck! Ow!" he growled, rubbing his head. "Fuckin hurts."

"Still?"

"Aye."

"Well, come one then. Let's get ye some rest. Dontcha think?"

"Aye." Murphy smiled gratefully at me, and turned towards the door.

"Oh butterbeans!" We heard from behind us. I snickered, and turned around. A sweet old biddy stood at her car, trying to lean down to pick up the bag of cat food she dropped. I have Murphy a look, and her rolled his eyes, but I saw the smile on his face as he walked towards her.

"Excuse me ma'am. Do ye need any help?" he asked. I stood next to him and smiled. She looked at the two of us warmly.

"Oh! If it wouldn't be too much trouble! I just need to get these upstairs. You see, I'm staying in this hotel until Everett, that's my dear husband, gets our new place ready. Not to much trouble right dears?" she smiled.

"Not to much trouble a'tall." I answered her, and bent down to get her cat food. Murphy grabbed the rest of her groceries and we followed her up towards the motel room. She opened the door, and stood aside as we walked it.

"Here ye go ma'am."

"Awh bless my heart. You boys are so sweet!" she smiled. It was then that I heard Murphy groan, and then a bright burst of pain.

Then nothing.

.:.

"Come on now, wake up my dears." a voice called me from the darkness. I winced, as pain, and the warmness of blood dripped down my face. "Come on now. This isn't 'elping you any."

I forced my eyes open, and waited for my vision to come into focus. When it finally did, the figure standing above me smiled. It was a woman. Black, choppy hair. Then I saw her eyes. They were massive! Fucking huge! And they were the same color as the moon. I shivered.

"Well, good morning there sunshine!" she knelt down in front of me, and smacked my face.

"Who-"

"Shh." she pressed her finger against my lips. "Shut up luv." she answered, I narrowed my eyes.

She was fucking British.

Fuck! Where was Murphy? I moved my face away from her hand and looked around. Murphy was slumped against the wall next to me. His hands, and mine as well, were handcuffed to a handicapped bar in a bathroom. I tried to move my legs, but they felt like they were incased in cement. My body was worthless.

The woman knelt down, and smacked Murphy across the face. His eyes shot open. "The fuck?"

"'Ey!" She snarled. "I don't much like your language there. You'd find it better for youself to watch your mouth." she smiled wickedly at him. Murphy stared at her in shock.

"Who are ye?" I asked her, trying to remain calm. I could think my way out of this. I knew I could. She trained her huge orbs on mine.

"They call me Chelsea."

"Call ye?" I asked. "Isn't dat yer name?"

"No. It's where they found me. Chelsea, England." She answered. "It's not my name."

"Alright den, what is it dat ye want?" I asked. I could feel Murphy's anger next to me. I mentally begged him to calm the fuck down. Something about this woman spooked me, and I didn't want to piss her off.

"Want? I don't really want anything."

"Then why?" Murphy snarled. She raised her eyebrow.

"Why did you kill my brothers? I loved my brothers you know." she sighed. "You killed my family. I 'ate it when people mess with my family."

"Family?"

Chelsea turned away from us, and pulled down the strap of her tank top, so I could read the words on her shoulder.

The Ballad of Charlotte Dymond

She turned back to us, her smile contorted her face.

Her smile was evil.

The words tattooed on her skin were evil.

Her eyes were huge, wide, and innocent. They completely counteracted the evil in the rest of her features.

"Cac Connor! Cad a dhéanaimid? D'aontaigh muid riamh chun dochar do bhean" Murphy whispered under his breath. Shit Connor, what do we do? We agreed never to hurt a woman

"Níl mé cinnte go fóill Murphy. Ag brath ar cad a dhéanann sí le linn" I answered my brother.

I'm not sure Murphy, depends on what she does to us

"What an annoying game, I didn't know you were mega-lingual" the creature pouted. "I'm not sure I like this."

"Doesn't much matter if ye fucking like it, does it?" Murphy snarled. Her massive eyes narrowed, gaze resting on my brother. She flipped out a blade, and had it pressed against his throat.

"What part of 'watch your language' confused you there?"

"Get the fuck away from him! Now!" I ordered, pulling against the handcuffs. I felt the familiar slice of the metal against my wrists as I thrashed against them.

In and instant, there was a knife pressed against my throat as well. "You Irishmen 'ave serious listening problems."

"Hey! Get the…get away from him." Murphy cried. Her massive orbs bounced between us.

"This is amazing. You're dedication towards each other outweighs everything else doesn't it?" she grinned wickedly at us. Me and Murphy clenched our teeth. "Well? It's rude to keep a lady waiting." she retracted both knives. "Fine. We'll just 'ave to test this."

She pulled out a smoke, and lit it. "So," She eyed Murphy. "Let's test out this twin theory. Shall we?" he just glared. Ice flooded my veins. Oh God She took a deep drag off the smoke, until the ember glowed bright, then she pressed it against Murphy's neck. Murphy thrashed against the handcuffs, growling.

"Get the fuck away from my brother!" I screamed, blood trickling down my arms. She pulled the smoke away from Murphy, angry eyes trained on me now. She pulled out a gun and pressed it against my head. "Watch the language! You two are stupid! And if you keep it up, I'm going to 'ave to reopen every 'ole I put in your body!" She smiled at me.

It was her? She was the one who shot me!

"Don't listen ta Connor." Murphy mumbled. I glared at him, and he gave me a look. Hey, one of us beat to shit is better then both of us he told me with his eyes.

Chelsea looked between us, and she popped her fingers. I winced as I noticed how long her nails were. She brought her claws back, and slashed them across Murphy's face. He moaned. "I 'ate the martyr act. You're not real Saints. You do realize that right?"

"Fuck you bitch!" I snarled, hoping to draw her attention away from Murphy.

"That's it!" she growled. She pulled out a knife, and trained it on Murphy again. "New rule. Every time you break one of my rules, the punishment is delivered to your brother. Understand?"

We glared at her.

"I said understand!" She snarled, she grabbed Murphy's hair, wreching his head back.

"Yes!" I answered. "We understand."

"Good." she smirked, then ran her tongue over the cuts she made on Murphy's face.

Jesus Christ.

"Huh, you Irishmen taste like whiskey." she shrugged, and threw Murphy back into the wall. His head hit way to hard. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. "So, you ready to shut up and play my game?"

**Yikes...so to be honest...i need torture ideas, so come on readers! who out there wants to help me sadistically torture the Saints? Or does anyone have some *non* slash-twin brotherly love? because, i'm not good at love, but i'm pretty good at evil...**


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's note: Hoooooooooooo boy...so I actually got the chance to meet Misters Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flanery this weekend! Reedus called me babe *goofy smile* and Flanery fucked up my name six ways to sunday! -.- but it was still cute xD anyways, i didn't update because well, it was incredibly awkward for me to meet the two men i had been planning on torturing later that night...but i finally got it done! so here you go! enjoy!**

**Disclaimer!: I don't own the BDS :] BUT I'VE MET THEM :DDDDDDDDDDD**

**Thank yous!: Alright, so i had a lot of help, with torture and otherwise, and it's time to give a shout out! **

**To:**

**kdk2013-Totally helping me with my writers block :]**

**NewsiesSpot88-For not being too freaked out when i messaged her asking for tourture tips ;]**

**Pitbullsrok-For reviewing both my BDS fics, and helping me think of gruesome ideas to unleash upon our favorite twins.**

**ThisSideOrTheOther-for being my wifey, for staying up late with me, for helping me plan just some evil shit, and for giving me the idea of the evil old lady in the last chapter! i love you wifey xD**

Chapter Twenty: Fear, Faith and Finished?

*Murphy*

God was very good at putting us in situations that tested everything we believed. That Monster was nothing I'd ever faced before. She terrified me.

She hurt me just to hurt my brother.

She hurt my brother just to hurt me.

I didn't know how to fight back, without Connor getting hurt.

I opened my eyes a crack, and surveyed the bathroom. I couldn't see her feet anywhere, and I couldn't hear anything but mine and my brother's labored breathing. I could feel pins run along my legs, I was praying that they'd be getting feeling back soon. Maybe then me and Conn could figure out how to get the fuck out of there.

I lolled my head towards my brother. "Conn, wake up." I mumbled. He didn't stir. My stomach jumped up to my throat. His lip was methodically dripping blood on to his shirt. His head was dropped foreword, and I couldn't remember the last time he had moved. "Conn, please. Wake up man." I begged him.

God, he better wake up. Although, it sure looked like he might not. He had slashes all over his arms and face. That fucking Monster and her fucking claws. His lips was busted from her boot to his face. And there were several cigarette burns peppered in throughout.

All of those were my fault.

"Waswrongmurph?" he slurred. I chuckled darkly.

"I can think of one Monster to answer yer question." I answered. Connor lifted his head, looking out towards the bathroom.

"She here?"

"Doesn't seem so."

"Good. I can call her a fuckin' crazy bitch then."

"Fuckin A." I leaned my head against the cold tile. Christ I had a headache and a half. Connor had bit her, so she had kicked my head against the tile.

"Hey Murph," Connor mumbled.

"Aye?"

"I figured out what's wrong with Blaine."

"Ah?" I glanced at him. "And what's fucking up Blaine this week?" that was random?

"She's fucking depressed. Why the fuck did we leave her alone?" he moaned. I nodded.

Well, fuck. Connor had entered survival mode. It was something he did only when severely cornered. Rather then accept that he was fucked, he put his mind anywhere but the current situation. Shit. This Monster scared me sure, but I think she had fucked Connor.

"We didn't leave her alone Conn, remember? She's with Tina, and Greenly, he's with them. She's okay." I reminded him. I had long since learned that the best way to get Connor back from wherever the hell he was, was to answer every single question he asked. Remind him that there was land to stand on.

"How long do ye think we've been here?"

"I don't fuckin' know. She took the phones, guns, bags. All of our shit. Christ, how the fuck did she even get us here?" I looked at Connor. How did she get us here? The last thing I remember was being lead up to a sweet little biddy's apartment…

Shit, how did I not see that coming? You never trust the old lady, ever. How many scary movies taught me that?

"She begged me not to go. She begged me. How the fuck did she know? How the fuck did she know?" Connor murmured next to me. What? Oh right. Blaine.

"Connor, there's no way she could've fuckin-" A bullet smashed into the wall between my arm and head. I jumped. The Monster stood in the doorway, slowly lowering her gun. Her sliver eyes trained on mine, and it was cold. Extremely cold. She tilted her head slowly and readjusted the bag on her shoulder. "I missed you on purpose."

"I believe ye." I muttered. I had no doubt in my mind that she did.

"I want to hurt you."

"Well, dat's rude. I haven't done anything ta ye." I scoffed. She narrowed her eyes, which only made them normal sized.

"'Aven't done anything to me? 'Aven't done anything? You killed my brothers. So many of them." her fist clenched. "You're nothing but a killer."

"Me? Ain't the only killer here. Yer just as much a killer as I am."

"I'm not a killer. I'm just sick. Twisted. Deranged. Screwed up in the head." she swung her gun around in time with her words. "An object. Sure. But a killer? No. I'm a machine. And a machine does what it's manufactured to do. It just does what it's programmed to do."

"Aren't ye programmed ta kill?" Connor asked beside me, his eyes clearing up a little. The Monster slowly shook her head.

"No, I'm programmed to destroy."

"So yer goin ta destroy us." Connor's voice got harder.

"I'm going to destroy the Saints. Yes." She nodded, then knelt down next to us. She pulled the bag off her shoulder and started rummaging through it.

"Then why da fuck are ye putting us through this?" I snarled. I saw her eyes narrow, and realized my mistake much too late. The Monster reached into her back pocket, and flipped out a knife. She stabbed it right into my brother's shoulder.

"No! Stop! Leave him be!" I cried as Connor screamed in pain and tried to move away from her. Sadly a fucking handicapped bar only provides so much movement. And when your hands have been hanging in the air, for hours on end.

"Don't tell me to stop. I told you what would 'appen when you break my rules." she chastised me with the voice a mother would use with a disobedient child.

_Fuck you, you mother fucking, fucking, bitch, whore cunt slut fucker bitch._ I thought as I glared at her. She just smiled wickedly at me.

She dumped the bag out, and examined the contents. My head hurt to much to look down. "Ah! 'Ere it is!" I forced my head to move, and saw her holding a syringe.

_Fuck_ I mentally growled. That explained why me and Connor hadn't been able to move since we had gotten here. She uncapped the needle, and flicked it a few times.

"So, I did some seriously intense thinking," she started, still staring the needle. "About 'ow to effectively do this. And I realized something. You 'ave that twin theory. So watched while I was mutilating the two of you," she flicked the needle a few more times. She spoke as if she was discussing the weather. She was talking about fucking torturing my brother! And it didn't effect her at all! "I found something interesting. You-" she looked at me. "You were 'urt already. Your 'ead. So this physical beating, it's worse for you. And you-" Her orbs bounced from me to Connor. "You 'aven't reacted once, no matter what I do to you. So logically, the only way to 'urt you, is to 'urt 'im."

I stiffened, and saw Connor go pale. Fuck, no that's not fair. She can't do that to him. She just fucking can't!

"Don't touch him." Connor finally spoke clearly, and his voice held anger, malice and ice all in the same tone. His eyes were finally clear, and they were on fire. "I swear I will kill you, if you so much as look at him wrong."

"See, I 'ad actually thought of that." She winked at him, and gestured towards the needle. "This is the drug that we've been peddling in, will be quite useful for this. You've already 'ad a dose, so now you know." she snapped her hand into his hair, and wretched his head to the side. She stabbed the needle into his neck, and pushed the plunger. Connor growled and tried to thrash away from her.

I was done with her shit! I forced my semi-numbed knee to fly up, and it knocked the back of her neck. She screamed, and tore the needle out. Connor snickered. Her massive eyes locked onto mine. "You are going to regret that!" she snarled. Her cool composure was gone, and there was just insanity in her eyes.

She grabbed another needle from her bag, and stabbed that one into my neck. I tried to fight away, but my limbs still felt useless. She smirked. "Be right back love." she left the bathroom.

"Connor." I moaned. He looked at me.

"We'll be alright Murph." he assured me. I scoffed.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I can't follow her stupid fu-" I stopped myself. "Her rules." I amended. "I'm sorry she hurt you."

"She's not done yet Murphy. She's going to hurt us some more. She ain't done yet. We have ta be strong alright?" he eyed me. The cloudy eyed Connor was completely gone. Instead, Saint Connor stared back at me. It wasn't the brother I spent 27 years with. It was this steely eyed man that appeared when he dropped a toilet on the man who held a gun to my head.

"She's going to kill us Connor." I whispered.

"If she does, we go together. Remember? It's all or none. And ye know what else?"

"What's that then?" I asked.

"We're going to survive this. Because we have things we need ta finish. We're not done here. We have ta help Blaine, and I'm getting my wan back. I deserve ta be happy." he said the last sentence quiet. Ah, so Mika was back on his mind. I couldn't blame him.

Tina crossed mine a few times in the last several hours.

I forced my body closer to his, until our hands were touching. "Guí liom dheartháir?" I asked through labored breaths. _Pray with me brother?_

"agus aoirí beimid

chun tú mo Thiarna, ar do duit

cumhacht tar éis teacht ó do lámh

go bhfuil ár mo chosa tapa a dhéanamh amach do gceannas

agus beidh muid ag sreabhadh na habhann amach a riot

agus beidh plódaithe le hanamacha sí go deo

in ainm an athar, agus an mhic, agus an Spiorad Naomh" I prayed with Connor. I squeezed his hand.

"Amen."

*Tina*

Bad feeling. I had a bad feeling.

"Blaine! Come and, you know, eat!" I called up the stairs. The poor girl was terrified. The boys were late. They'd been gone for 27 hours. She was worried.

I was trying not to be.

Greenly had just left, and we asked him what had happened.

"My high school English class, that's what happened." then he told us he'd call as soon as he found out more. Until then, it was my job to get Blaine to eat.

Connor and Murphy were stupid. So stupid. Couldn't they see something was wrong with Blaine? Couldn't they see? She was hurting.

"Blaine!" I called back up the stairs.

"Not hungry Tina." answered me from upstairs. "But thanks."

"You haven't eaten all day!"

"I know."

Hmmm. Now I was really worried. Blaine had always been a good eater. Now she wasn't eating.

Something is wrong here.

I admit it, I was worried too. Very worried.

I had already cleaned the kitchen maybe six or sevens times. And I had caught myself trying to scrub the color of the tile off.

The Saint thing was easier to deal with when I hated him.

Now, now that Murphy wasn't an enemy, I was worried.

He was a drug, that boy. And I had taken another hit.

He kissed me.

I kissed back.

I missed that.

He was a drug.

_Isis, if you let him come back, I'll stop using your name as a curse_ I randomly through out there. Last ditch effort if there ever was one.

The Gods didn't exist.

I could only hope Murphy's God did.

I looked at the food I had made, and found that I wasn't hungry either. I was too worried to be anything but.

I sighed.

Life was funny sometimes. Very funny.

I heard the door open, and my heart was instantly flooded with relief.

"You got a deal Isis." I whispered, as I continued to clean the already immaculate kitchen. The footsteps grew closer. "You two are late." I mentioned as I pulled the rag away from the counter.

I felt a presence behind me, and hands wound into my hair. My head started flying towards the counter.

_I just cleaned that_ crossed my mind as I felt the impact steal my consciousness.

*Connor*

God I couldn't feel my body. I fucking couldn't. That damn needle held cement. I pushed my body to move, but I was only rewarded with a twitch of the foot, and a wiggle of a finger. Murphy wasn't looking much better. He had passed out a little while ago.

All we could do was wait here.

Wait her for that monster to finish us.

_God what am I supposed to do? I swore I'd never kill a woman, and Da said that was the right way. What about now? This woman will kill us. But I can't harm her._ I couldn't believe I was even debating this, but here I was. Evil or not, Chelsea was still a woman, and if I took her life. It would haunt me.

Not the way that the souls of the lives I'd taken haunted me. I knew someday I'd have to face them. But if I killed this woman, her soul would be constantly around me. It would be in ever defenseless woman I'd see.

If she fucking hurts my brother though…I can't be held responsible. I will fucking lose control. Because she was right.

When she hurt Murphy, it hurt a thousand times worse then when she hurt me.

Fuck it all.

The door creaked open, and Chelsea walked back in. A boy with a grotesque grin scared across his face followed her. Chelsea's were lightly ringed by a black tint.

Shit, Murphy must have hit her hard.

She moved with purpose towards Murphy, and pulled out a key. She undid his handcuffs, and his body slumped to the floor.

"Get away from him!"

"Shut up!" She snarled. I almost winced. She was insane. Completely insane. She had seemed to have lost her control. She snapped at the boy with the scar, and he walked over.

"'Old 'im up under 'is arms." The boy picked my brother up. I willed my body to fight harder.

_Fuck. No! Murphy! Wake up! Fight! Please!_ I begged him silently. I knew he could hear me. He could always hear me.

Murphy's eyes opened, and he took an almost drunken swing at the kid holding him. The kid took the punch, but didn't let go. Instead the threw Murphy up against the wall.

"Don't fucking touch him!" I screamed. Chelsea glared at me, and slammed her boot back into my mouth.

"Shut up! Or I will put a bullet through both of your brains! Who cares what the boss ordered!"

"Chelsea. Focus." the boy told her. She nodded.

"'Old 'im." she ordered the boy once again. His grip tightened, and Murphy winced. Chelsea grabbed Murphy's left arm, and held it outstretched. "Perfect. So Saint Murphy. Do you remember what James 'ad told you. About what the boss was going to do to you?"

Murphy narrowed his eyes. Fuck, why did that sound familiar?

_"Da boss just goes by Boss apparently, and dat big mother fucker that attacked Blaine, apparently his name is Tank. Dat's all James could give me. Apparently, tis a very hush hush kinda group we're dealing with."_

_"Did yer new friend give us an idea as to what dey want?"_

_"I believe it was something along the lines a' 'ta crucify us like da Jesus dat we love so much'" Murphy answered, taking another pull on the beer_

Oh God no!

Chelsea knelt down and grabbed her bag again, looking for something. I felt adrenaline course through my veins. I began to pull against the handcuffs, and the bar. "Murph! Fuck! Fight back Murphy! Now!"

Murphy continued to punch, claw and knee the kid that held him, but he wasn't budging. Either he was made of rock, or used to taking beatings.

If he worked under Chelsea, I was willing to bet it was the second one.

"I said shut up! If you talk once more, I'll drag a razor down your body like a candy cane. You don't know pain yet!" she spoke ice, and yet, as she glared at me. Her eyes remained innocent.

She wasn't human. She couldn't be.

Did that make it okay to kill her?

Chelsea stood up, and stretched Murphy's hand out again.

"Murphy! Fight!"

"I'm fucking trying!"

She produced a large nail from her hand and placed it against his open palm.

She couldn't.

She pulled the hammer from her other hand and brought it down on the nail.

"Fuck!" Murphy screamed as the nail broke through the skin.

"Bitch! Ye fucking bitch!" I screamed, finally gaining control of my body. I pulled hard against the handcuffs. The metal bit into my skin with a sickening nostalgia, but I continued to pull, I could feel the blood down my arms as I fought against the metal.

She brought the hammer down again. Murphy screamed. I fought even harder.

I couldn't let her do this to my brother.

The blood was running steady down my wrists now, and Murphy looked over to me. "Accessit. Te non occidatur Iordanem istum. Opus vitae. non me mori!" he cried. _Stop! Do not kill yourself over this! Do not die on me!_

"Frater valeat. Non potest hoc semper." I tried to assure him. _Be strong brother! She can't do this forever._

"Mortis remedium esse." He screamed as she brought the hammer down once more to the left hand. _Death would be a relief_

The nail had gone all the way through his left hand. I thought I might be sick.

More from his words then his pain.

"Nec desistas me. Te peto ut Laban. Omnia, sive nihil!" I was able to say the words without breaking. _Do not give up on me! I need you to stay with me! All or nothing!_

Murphy eyes stayed on mine. "Terret me."

_I'm scared_

His admittance threw me. Murphy was never scared. Ever.

Minus the time with the _bean sídhe_.

Chelsea had moved to his right hand. She glanced at the Aequitas briefly before she flattened the palm against the wall. She produced another nail.

"God! Leave him alone! Please!" I screamed. She only shrugged.

"'E 'it me. I 'ate it when men 'it women." Her massive eyes grew sharper. "I don't like 'im." she placed the nail in his palm.

The hammer made contact with a stomach curling squish. I felt my stomach roll, and I slumped over and dry heaved. Murphy screamed again.

I couldn't stop myself, I looked.

Blood poured from the punctures in his hand, and his face was screwed up in a pain I'd never understand. Never experience.

Chelsea brought the hammer down a final time, then stepped back to examine her work. "Let 'im go." she ordered the kid.

He released Murphy, who immediacy slumped down, the drug still having control of his body. The nails ripped through more of his hand, but then they stopped.

My brother hung there, head bowed in defeat.

He looked like Christ back home in Ireland. In the parish in our little town. Our crucifix had always been different. That artist had made God with short hair. Our Ma used to smile at us in church. 'Christ looks like ye, Murphy ma'boy. Maybe yer supposed ta be the second coming? Can ye imagine tha? That would make me Mary.' she looked all proud of herself. I had quickly informed her that Mary had been without sin, and that her ship had sailed for that. Murphy had reminded her that Mary had remained a virgin. Not the case for our loving mother.

_If _one_ of ye little pissants gets inta heaven, I'll consider this a success_ she had muttered before turning us back to our prayers.

Chelsea nodded approvingly at her work. She glanced over to me. "Not deep enough to bleed our. You're lucky. Any deeper, and you would've left 'im all alone." it took me a minute to realize she was talking about my wrists. I glared up at her.

"Ye will regret this."

"Don't get all riled up now, my friend." her innocent eyes met mine. "We're not finished yet."

**I am almost sorry i created her...review! please! even if it's only to tell me what a psycho freak i am :DDDDD**


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's note: Holy shit, this is, uh, proceed with caution alright? and uh, please don't hate me...**

**Disclaimer!: No own-o los santos de boondock :D**

Chapter 21: Five Becomes Four

*Boss*

The Boss pulled his fist back, and slammed it into the stomach of the woman he had personally grabbed from the Saints apartment. It was amazing how well a plan could go.

Of course, he had a good reason for this particular plan to work.

He had to avenge Tyson.

The Boss frowned to himself, _he had to avenge Tyson_? How bad Kung-Fu movie did that sound? What he was doing was so much more then an overused idea. He had to make it up to Tyson. The Saints had killed the one person on this Earth who gave a damn about him. The only person. His soldiers were just that, soldiers. They were his employees, people he paid to do a great job. He never grabbed a beer with them after a long day, never smoked a cigar and discussed any topic from Gatsby to the Bruin's chances that year. Tyson was his friend, his mentor, his father.

And the Saints had killed him.

Anger surged through his again, and he echoed the attack from earlier, and punched up into the girl's ribs. She cried out, but that wasn't much. She'd cried out every time he'd hit her. She pleaded him to stop, begging almost. Tears filled up her brown eyes but it hadn't affected him at all.

An eye for an eye.

And technically, she should be dead already. She was on barrowed time as it was, in the grand scheme of things, she had long since overstayed her welcome. And how was that fair to anyone? Fate wasn't as uncontrollable as everyone thought. It had to be regulated. He was going to deliver a fate today.

He punched her again.

"Please stop!" She begged again. She was shaking, and somehow, she was still looking him in the eyes. She did have pretty eyes, he'd give her that.

"Sorry luv, it's not you. I 'ope you understand that." He told her. She just bit her lip and shook her head.

"Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter does it?" He asked. Popping my knuckles. He was staring at her hard, trying to consider his options…he could carve her up some…but that would kind of defeat the purpose. He was trying to get even with the Saints, but he was a gentleman if anything. He wouldn't cause anymore harm to this woman then was needed.

"Let me go. Please!" she tried. She'd been singing this tune for a while now, but it just wasn't sticking with him.

"Sorry luv, that's just not going to 'appen." he shrugged, looking down at his hands. The skin of his knuckles was broken, and his blood was slowly trialing off his hands. There was blood on her shirt as well. He'd have to remember to take that with him. He didn't want the cops to be anymore involved then they already were.

The girl bound to the chair sniffed. He shook his head. At this rate, he was going to kill her a lot faster then he intended too. She was a bit on the skinner side, and every punch looked like it was going to break her in half. She was crying now, but she didn't seem to notice, she was too busy staring at the ground. The faded red stains of the others that the Boss had dragged to this very spot.

He'd never killed a woman before.

Tyson had always said it wasn't very chivalrous to do that to a woman, but, if it was for the good of the business, everyone was expendable. Another lesson from Tyson, that would forever be burned into the Boss' mind.

"You going to kill me?" she asked, her eyes meeting his once more.

Always the gentleman, the Boss nodded. "I plan to."

To his surprise, the woman just nodded. "I thought so."

"Look 'ere luv," He said, kneeling down so that they were at eye level. "I'm giving you the gift of an open casket at your funeral." She winced at his words. "'Ey, don't look a gift 'orse in the mouth. If you'd ask the family of any of the Saint's victims if they 'ad that option, what do you think they'd say?" The woman would be getting an open casket. The only mark on her face was from the bruise that came with the impact her head had taken so they could transport her. It's not like she was going to be walking out willingly.

"They didn't…" She whispered. He nodded.

"That's right. They didn't. because the Saints made that decision for them. So, when I 'ad to bury my best friend, my _father_, guess what option I didn't 'ave." He could hear his voice grow hard. The girl whimpered.

"You couldn't have an open casket."

"Exactly. My final goodbye to one of the most important people in my life, and I 'ad to say goodbye to a wooden lid, to a slab of pine. Because the face 'ad been disfigured past a state of recognition. I 'ad to explain to 'is mother why I couldn't show 'er 'is face. I 'ad to tell the woman 'e loved that she would've recognized 'im anyway. I 'ad to be the one to identify 'is body. I 'ad to see their carnage firsthand."

"Killing me won't bring him back, you know." the girl's eyes narrowed, and The Boss finally saw a spark of life in the otherwise dull, dark eyes.

"Believe me, I'm aware that it won't bring 'im back. But I don't think the Saints should get off without so much as a tear. I can 'it them physically as many times as I want, but they're like ants. They just won't fucking die." He sighed, and popped his knuckles. Maybe he should get some back up.

"You don't know them. Killing me won't stop them." The girl actually managed a smirk.

"Are you completely sure about that?"

"The Saints, are infallible." She nodded. Well, it appeared that they had different opinions about what her death would do to the two men.

The Boss was about to answer when he heard the door open. He glanced behind them, and nodded to Chelsea as she approached him. "What are you doing 'ere?"

"Well, to be 'onest, I 'ad to get out of there before I killed them. This is grating on my every nerve Boss. I can't be there, and not kill them anymore. I want to kill them. I want to cut them both so deep, that they 'ave to sit there, and wonder which one of them will die first." Her massive eyes were narrowed, and it was then that the Boss noted they were ringed with a purple tint.

"What 'appened to your eyes?"

"One of them 'it me." She snarled. The control that usually curbed the insanity in her eyes was gone. Right now, he was sure that she was being fueled by nothing more then insanity and rage. "They 'it me." her clawed fingers clenched into fists, and she eyed the woman tied to the chair.

"Who you 'ave 'ere?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Revenge." He answered.

"Ah." Chelsea stared at the woman, who flinched when she saw Chelsea's eyes. "She 'as pretty eyes."

"I thought so too." He idly answered, reaching down for some brass knuckles. Sure, the idea was overplayed for gangs, especially the Boss, but it was effective, there was no denying that. "Get back to work Chelsea. I'm not paying you to 'ang around. Go get it done."

"I've never not killed my toys. What am I supposed to do with them?" she rolled her eyes.

"Destroy them?" He threw out. "Don't much care, just keep them busy."

Chelsea narrowed her eyes, they had a conflicting look in them. Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she almost jumped. "I 'ave it! I do! But first, can I 'ave that?" she pointed toward a brick pile that was leaning against the wall. The Boss shrugged.

"Go for it." Chelsea grabbed the item and ran out, leaving the Boss with the girl. She stared up at him and slowly blinked her eyes.

"Where were we?" he asked the girl. She scowled.

"The infallibility of the Saints."

"Ah, that's right." The Boss chuckled. "You are a stupid girl."

"I'm not stupid!"

"You are. You're naïve to think that there are infallible. In all reality, everyone is fallible. The Saints can't 'ide behind their title anymore. They need to be reminded they're as 'uman as you and me." The Boss told her as he slammed his knuckles back into her stomach. The girl shivered violently, and promptly threw up, her body leaning over just enough that it wouldn't get all over her.

"Chin up luv. We'll be done soon. It'll all be over soon. And I 'ave quiet the ending planned for us." He felt a smile stretch across his face, and her eyes widened in fear.

"An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind." She whispered. I gave a small laugh.

"I'm already blind…so might as well bring them into this pit with me." He simply responded as he undid the girl's arms. She tried to struggle, but a few well placed hits to her shoulder earlier had made the idea of moving damn near impossible.

The Boss picked the girl up so that he was standing behind her. She tried to move away, but the vertigo from the head injury attacked her at that point and she went reeling. The Boss dropped the brass knuckles on the ground, and he pulled on a pair of gloves.

Once those were secure, he flicked out his Stanley knife. He grabbed the woman's right hand, and gently wound her fingers around the blade. Her eyes went wide and she tried to fight even harder, but The Boss was much stronger then she was.

He lead her right hand to her left wrist, and he pressed the knife against the skin, and drug it slowly down. The woman was shaking like a leaf now, and he dropped her. She hit the ground hard, and whimpering.

"And now they know, to never, _ever_, fuck with my family." He sighed, and turned towards the door, pulling out his phone.

He felt like a chat with the Agent was in order.

*Connor*

Every breath hurt.

Every time a muscle twitched was agony.

How fucking long had she kept us here? How fucking long had my brother been hanging like Christ on that wall.

How much more could he take?

I sighed and reached up so that I was gripping the handicapped bar. I was going to get Murph and meself out of this, no matter the fucking cost.

I began to pull at the damn thing, but the fucking metal wouldn't budge.

But hell, a toilet wasn't supposed to budge either.

I pulled hard, being fueled by the fact that if I didn't get out. She was going to kill my brother.

What the fuck kind of human could do this to another?

_Pretty simple answer ta dat one Connor. She's not human._

_She has ta be human, demons aren't real, monsters aren't real. She has ta be human._

_Do you really think she's human, or do ye just want her ta be? So ye don't have ta worry about the demon that could very well kill ye, and yer brother? _

Fuck I was sick of this shit.

I tugged harder on the bar, and heard the screech of metal. I smirked and continued to pull. I was this fucking close.

A knife landed into the wall next to me. I growled and started at the door that had been mocking me since we'd first woken up in this hell. Chelsea leaned against the door. She was wearing different clothes. She had on a red tank top. It had been black last I'd seen her. Fuck, how long had I been here?

"Ah, ah, ah." She wagged her finger at me like I was some fucking puppy. "Let's not be breaking things you don't intend to fix."

"Could say da same for ye." I snarled. Chelsea just gave the same contorted smirk she always gave me.

"And 'ow're my boys today?"

"I ain't yer boy."

"Well, you're nobody's boy aren't you? I mean, your brother kind of sort of 'as that artist…well for now. But you, you don't really belong to anyone. A lost little puppy if there ever was one."

"Shut up." I growled. I was done, I wasn't going to listen to her anymore. I wasn't going to let her hurt me anymore.

"Alright, fine. Not like it's important or anything." she shrugged and made her way over to where Murphy was slumped. She poked each of the nails. I felt rage bubble up inside me.

_One good tug, and that bar will give. I know I can pull dat off_

She slowly traced her fingers over the three scratches she had carved into Murphy's face, and she smiled. Murphy didn't stir once. Christ, he wasn't going to last much longer. Fuck!

"What about ye?" I asked, trying to buy some time to plan something out.

"What about me?"

"Who do ye belong ta?"

"The gun." she answered simply. "The blade. The blood."

"Ye had ta be something before dat." I argued. "Ye can't be nothing but death."

"I didn't exist before that. I was nothing. I wasn't worth anything until Chelsea, England."

"So what, yer-"

"It's like I told your brother, I'm an object. A machine, a tool. Nothing more." The silver eyes captured mine. "Just like you."

"What do ye mean? I exist outside of this life. I'm not just a gun. I was something before it."

"No you weren't."

"Yes I was."

"No," She shook her head. "You weren't. It just isn't possible. Before you picked up a gun, what were you? One Irishman of thousands in Boston? Working a pathetic job, making only enough to get by? Spend what little money you have leftover on a night in the pubs?" She raised her eyebrow expectantly. I could only stare at her. "But after you picked up a gun, you went down in 'istory. You'll forever be remembered as a Saint. The gun gave you a name for yourself. It created a legacy for you. Now, instead of dying some nameless Irish drunk in the streets of Boston, you'll be remembered. You're a Saint, a phantom, a murderer. You've become the enemy of 'undreds and the 'ero of thousands. All because you picked up a gun, and pulled the trigger. So don't sit there and pretend that you're above what you are. You're just as bad as I am."

The words spoken by this woman caused guilt, cold and numbing to spread through my body. Guilt I didn't know I had. I looked away.

Christ was that what I had become? Just another mass murder?

Was this what was going to define me for the rest of my life?

I was forever going to live under the guise of bullets, blood and luck, until one day, I wasn't going to come back alive. How the hell was I supposed to accept this?

I was going to keep doing this until I died. I worked for God.

But, fuck, I was a man too.

Even before this had become my life, I'd always wanted to settle down. I had a slight desire for family life. I almost craved the normalcy of having a wife, a kid, and hell, maybe even a fucking dog. I wanted something that I could come home to.

Not just blood, pills and an iron.

But since me and Murphy had started this crusade, my desire for a family became almost like a sin, it wasn't as if it could ever happen.

But why the fuck not? Christ Almighty, it was better then getting stuck in a situation like this again…watching and waiting for either me or Murphy to draw our last breath. God willing we went together.

Either way, I had to get my fucking head back in the game. I had to get me and Murphy out of here.

Chelsea continued to stare at me, as if she knew something I didn't. "Oh boy, you're not as strong as you think you are."

"And ye know me well enough to say that?" I spat.

"I know how to bend you completely to my will, I know your heartbeat, I know every scar on your body. I know what you look like when you're scared. I know you at your worst." she responded. I felt a chill slide up my spine.

_Not human._

_Still human. _

"And, I know that you don't enjoy this work as much as you let on." She threw out. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Ye don't know sh-" I stopped myself. "Ye don't know me."

"I don't have to know who you are. I know who you aren't. You aren't cut out to be a killer. Not in the way that you need to be."

"Think that I'm doing a decent job, enough to kill Tank." I tossed out the only leverage I had. I knew that Tank must've meant something to her, because she hadn't attacked when we killed those first drug dealers, or when we killed Bobby. She had a connection with that one.

Her boot smashed into my teeth once more.

Ha. I was right.

"You don't deserve to speak 'is name!" she cried. Anger flashed through her massive eyes. Her fists were clenched tight by her sides. I smiled though the blood.

"And if I do?"

"You can't 'andle this life. You can't stand not being in control. And I know that if you 'ad the choice, you'd be the first to walk way. 'Owever, you can't seem to make that choice. You're also afraid to disappoint anyone who counts on you. Like your brother for example. You'll never be able to make that choice. So, I'll make it for you." She explained, pulling a brick out of her bag, and tossing it up and down a few times.

What the fuck? She was going ta brick us to death?

She turned back towards my brother, and tossed the brick once more. Then she smashed it against his right had.

Murphy was jolted awake, and he screamed. I grabbed the fucking bar and began to pull.

"Fuck!" Murphy screamed.

_Pull! _

"God, Connor! Help me!"

_Pull!_

"Christ, this hurts!" Murphy screamed. He wasn't looking at me anymore. His head was turned towards the sky, he had be reduced to begging.

_Fucking pull!_

Chelsea brought the brick down on his hand once more, and another crunch echoed throughout the bathroom. Murphy screamed.

And the bar finally broke off in my hands.

Faster then I'd ever moved before, I slide the handcuffs off of it, and I tackled Chelsea to the ground.

Underneath me, she wasn't so scary. I was a good head taller then her, and she didn't weight very much. I pinned her arms down with my knees, and picked up the brick she had been using to torture my brother. I reared it back, completely intent on bashing her skull in.

Then I saw her eyes.

She was a woman.

Christ! Why was this still an issue for me! Why the fuck was I pausing!

She was a beast of a human, she'd hurt me, fucking crucified my brother, killed God knows how many people….

But she was still a woman.

A woman who really wasn't that old.

My heart beat rapidly against my ribcage and my stomach rolled. I had killed 37 men, and I'd had no trouble pulling the trigger, dropping the toilet, or just beating the shit out of them.

But she was a woman.

If I killed her, she would haunt me, more then a ghost. She was a woman.

I couldn't hurt a woman.

I'd let that lesbian bust my balls in the meat packing plant.

I'd never been able to say no to my mother, no matter how demeaning the task.

I'd never been able to pull off a one night stand, because I couldn't stand watching a woman accept that kind of disrespect.

"Fucking kill her Connor!" Murphy cried. I looked at him, and then his hand. There was so much blood…and I could swear I could see some bone. His eyes were stained with pain.

Jesus Christ.

I gripped the brick tighter.

But when I met her eyes again, nothing had changed. She was still a woman.

I couldn't kill a woman.

I dropped the brick, and grabbed her, and threw her up against the wall.

"Get the fuck out of here, now." I growled. Her eyes widened at the tone of my voice. "If ye dare show yer face again, I will fucking kill you." I pulled her away from the wall, and slammed her into it again. She groaned, then I dropped her. She landed against the floor hard, and she looked up at me.

Her eyes were still a woman's.

Chelsea ran out of the bathroom, hauling ass. I turned towards my brother, and began to examine the nails in his good hand, and the mutilated one. Fuck, how the hell do I take these out?

"Just pull them out Connor." He whispered. I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Murph…"

"Pull. Them. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Me." He explained slowly, and his voice cracked near the end. I could only nod. I glanced around, seeing if she had left the hammer.

Of course she hadn't, that would've been too fucking easy, wouldn't it?

I walked over to Murphy's good hand. And got a grip one the nail. Murphy winced at the contact alone. I counted to three in my head and pulled.

The nail only came about a third of the way out, and my brother wailed like a bean sídhe.

I had to tug on it two more times, until it fell to the floor with a clink. I still couldn't meet my brother's eyes.

His arm fell limp to his side, and I could hear his jaw popping from the way he was clenching his teeth.

I moved towards the fucked up mass of muscle that was his trigger hand. I bit my lip, and counted to three again.

"Oh God, just fucking kill me!" Murphy cried. Although, since this hand was so fucked up, the nail came with less resistance, and it only took once more to pull it out.

Murphy slammed against the floor. I dropped to my knees in front of him. I was finally able to look him in the eyes.

He didn't even look like my brother. His eyes were shattered and full of a pain I couldn't identify with. His face looked blank, but tortured at the same time. His body was shaking.

I reached my arms around him and pulled him towards me. He collapsed into my and I could feel his tears on my t-shirt. I could feel them on my face too. Fuck, I had come so fucking close to losing him.

So goddamned close to losing my brother.

"I'm sorry Murphy." I whispered. "So sorry Murphy. So fucking sorry. I'm sorry! I just couldn't- I couldn't-I couldn't fucking-"

I paused. I could smell smoke.

Oh fuck!

I jumped up and grabbed Murphy with me. He looked dazed and confused like never before, tears still on his face.

"We have ta get da fuck out of here! Now!" I screamed and pulled him out the bathroom door, finally. Out of that fucking door.

We ran into a cheap looking motel room. Fuck…we'd never left the motel? We were there all along? Explains how she got us there I suppose. I continued to haul Murphy towards the door.

"Connor it hurts!" he moaned from behind me.

"Only a little farther Murph! I promise! Just listen ta Connor now alright, we're almost done!" I called back and lead him towards the rickety looking staircase that we had come up with the old biddy.

I took the first couple of steps too fast, but my body couldn't stop going. I hit a stair wrong, and went down hard, Murphy right behind me. I hit the concrete hard enough to shock my body back into feeling.

"Fucking shit!" I growled as pain raced along my entire body. I lifted my head up, and saw the plumes of smoke coming from the building.

_That little bitch set the fucking building on fire. _I growled and pulled myself up once more, and dragged Murphy to his feet.

He was a little more responsive now, and I could feel him trying to keep up with my pace. I pulled Murphy until we were at least a block away, then my body quit on me. I fell to my hands and knees, and Murph fell on his stomach next to me.

"Jesus Christ." I whispered, and realized I was shaking harder then I ever had. I collapsed on my back and stared at Murphy. He was staring back at me.

We were beat to all fucking hell, we had no guns, no phones, no way to get help.

But Goddamn it, we were safe.

"I'm sorry Murph." I whispered, before a wave of pain crashed onto my body like a fucking tsunami, and I blacked out.

**So, uh, review? :]**


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's note!: So, all I can really say for myself here is, there's a reason for this, and please don't hate me?**

**Disclaimer!:No owning of the BDS :]**

**Thanksyous!: So, MithLuin, you are one smart little bastard! I swear, you're at least a few hundred steps ahead of me! It's because of this that I love reading your reviews, you've got me on my toes all the freaking time, and you caused me to rethink more then a few chapters. So thank you for causing me to do more then I usually would, and making this after-school project into something i've become very proud of :] (oh, and I think you'd have a future as a teacher or something of the like, your reviews are eerily similar to the notes my English teacher puts on my papers!) **

Chapter Twenty Two: Answer's We'll Never Get

*Blaine*

I had always watched doctor shows with my mom, and it always struck me funny that doctors had to call a time of death. I didn't like that. It summed up your life in a time stamp. Your own personal expiration date. As if your life was just those numbers.

A life is something much more. It has depth, and context and control. It has a start, and a map of your existence. It had Xs marking all the placing you had a purpose, and all the places you wish you could change. You can trace your life through those Xs, through those choices.

If you think back really, really hard, you can pinpoint the part of your life that lead you to where you are right now.

If I personally really thought about it, it goes to my very first conscious sin.

When I was six, my mom came home with a man named Ian. He was tall, bright grey eyes, and a nice smile. My mom was finally happy too. My dad and her had split when I was five. We had been eating dinner at the table, and my mom turned to him and sighed _We aren't in love._

My dad had smiled at her._ What else is new_

They had split on pretty decent terms, he moved to Boston, and my mom and me stayed in California. It had been just us for only year. She brought Ian into our house when I was six. He'd made us dinner one night, listened actively to me as I told him about my day, then he kissed my mother goodnight before he'd left. Once he was gone, my mom turned to me with a wide smile on her face. _Well Blaine, what do you think?_

I had thought about telling her the truth, about how he'd been very nice, and he could cook (something she couldn't) and he'd listened. But something about him made me uneasy. Something in my gut nudged me away from him. But, I lied, and told her that I thought he was a great guy.

They'd been married by the time I was seven. They had Blair when I was eight.

Yeah, they named her Blair. When I asked my mother about it, she laughed _Your name is Irish, figured your sister should have the same_

I had thought that was funny, so when I was old enough, I looked up our names. Mine meant 'Skinny' and Blair's meant 'field'. Real sexy right?

If mom had never married Ian, then she never would've had Blair, which meant Blair never would've begged me to take her to the river when I was 13, and I never would've lost her.

God, that was my second major sin. I had indirectly, or directly, killed my little sister.

After that day, I'd weighed down by a guilt I couldn't seem to escape.

Not until I started running that is.

Track and field had never appealed to me, but after Blair had been laid to rest, I had become very Murphy-esque in the fact that I was suddenly unable to sit still. I had never been very fidgety, but after that day, I couldn't stop moving.

I drove my mother crazy, because I couldn't just sit there and be quiet.

I drove my stepfather crazy, because I was still breathing.

Because of the way things were at my house, I had taken to walking myself to school early. Very early now that I thought about it. School started at eight, and I was usually there by 6:45. I hid out on the track so no one in the school would start asking questions. I had already become the target of the school guidance counselor, and a social abnormality amongst the other students.

I was the only one who'd had a sibling drown in the river. I was the only one who had nearly died in that same river.

People I had known since I was in kindergarten were suddenly unable to have conversations with me. Death does that, it changes the way you view other people. It didn't bother me much though, I wasn't really one for conversation those days. I was content to sit in the back of my class, and play of the part of deranged freak for my peers.

I'd never been one to disappoint.

So on one of the mornings I had been perfecting my part of social pariah, I had decided to give running the track a try. I had all this _movement_ trapped inside of me anyways, and I couldn't handle it anymore. Tossing my backpack on the bleachers, I had stood in the lane closest to the football field, and took off.

It had taken around two minutes, but I finished the lap, and collapsed back at the starting point. My body wasn't used to the exertion, or the demand, and it had drained me.

But it had also stopped the bubbling under the surface of my skin. The release I thought I had been looking for. That was the same day I had marched into the boys locker room and knocked on the coach's door. He'd been shocked as hell to see the little outcast standing in front of him with a form for track, but he was a very laid back guy. He looked over my form and eyed me suspiciously _Well, you're going to have to work harder then everyone else, you've missed about two weeks of practice._

I assured him I could do it.

I had done it too, it was one of the highs of my life, track and field. I was a short distance runner. The coach had become someone I could depend on, someone who actually listened when I spoke. Unlike the other people in my life.

He taught me how to run fast, and run hard. Because of the movement that was constantly controlling my body, I was able to run fast just long enough to gain a lead, after that, it was pure drive not to be a failure. I had to prove that I didn't always fuck up.

I had to prove that I could do the right thing, even once.

During my junior year, things had changed. I had become less of an outcast, and welcomed into the jock group. I was a good runner, there was no denying that. But for the relief running used to cause, it wasn't doing the same anymore. There was more bubbles then before or something. I couldn't shake the feeling of always needing to move. My teammates just laughed it off, and told me I was one of the most hyper people they had ever met. They'd even pooled together to get me a bottle of Adderall, _Maybe it's ADHD_ they suggested. I took the pills, just to see if they would help. They didn't, they just made everything, I don't know, sharper?

My mom and Ian found the pills, and had flipped out me, then my mom sat down and cried, and Ian bit his lip, and piled us all into the car, and I was taken to a mental health doctor. Read: Doc Jay. He was a nice guy, pretty young for a shrink, and he 'evaluated' me. Once we'd finished talking, he called my parents back in, and told them that I showed signs of depression. And henceforth, I would be taking Prozac steadily. That was my last week of my junior year.

During the first day of summer practices, I had walked up to my coach and told him that I wanted to switch from sprints to long distance running. The 1600 at least. He had stared at me like I was insane. _Blaine, the two are so different, it's more pace and less power. And let's face it girl, you're all power._

I shrugged, and told him that it hurt to much to stop running. I needed to keep moving.

I hadn't meant for there to be a double meaning to my words, but he understood anyways. So after that, I'd started coming early to practice, and he'd started training me for the long distance running like I wanted.

Just like before, I had been relieved by the running. And I once more thought I had found the solution to the buzzing in my cells.

I had become pretty decent in my mile time. 5:00 even. I was always second. To Piper Schwartz. I couldn't say that I liked her, and I couldn't say that I didn't. She was always nice, but she always beat me. It was infuriating. I wanted to beat her, so bad. So incredibly bad.

I stopped going home after practice, and I just ran. The coach got worried, and told me to take it easy. So on his request, I couldn't run more then six miles a day. Which was stupid, since I ran three during practice, and I lived three miles away, so I could jog home. But I respected him, so I had to keep my word to him.

I was nothing, if not trustworthy.

At least, I used to be.

It was at the track meet jamboree that my life became what it was now. I had ran one hell of a race, but came in second to Piper. I wasn't too mad though, I had creamed the other kids who ran in my event, and I had all year to destroy Piper. And hey, maybe if I tried hard enough, I could snag a scholarship to a school. That was my goal those first few weeks of September.

But after my race, long after I had finished, the buzzing wouldn't go away. My skin felt like it was crawling. I sat in the bleachers, waiting for the meet to end, and for mom or Ian to come get me. I sat on those bleachers for a few hours before I realized they weren't coming.

And why would they? Blair would've been 10 that day, they had more important things to do besides watch me. I was 18 wasn't I? I could take care of myself.

I grabbed my bag and walked home, the buzzing increasing under my skin. The feeling was unbearable. I could only liken it to my bones itching. And no matter what I did, I wasn't able to scratch it. It was the literal one place I couldn't be relived.

I went up to my room, and turned music on. It didn't have to be real music, it was just enough to counteract the noise in my head. I flopped down on my bed, thoroughly wiped out, but my body was still buzzing. All this…_something_ was trapped inside and I couldn't manage to get it out, no matter what I did.

My skin continued to crawl and twist and moan at me. Begging me for relief. I couldn't ignore it anymore. I was a nail biter. Always had been. I don't know why I started this, but I started to claw at my wrist. I didn't even understand what I was doing. All I knew was that I had finally been able to do something about the constant feeling in my body. The jagged edges of my nails felt like exactly what I needed, just with a little more pressure…

Relief. I finally felt relief.

I flopped back down my bed, arm hanging off the side. I couldn't feel the blood running down my fingers. I couldn't hear the blood dripping onto the hardwood in my room. All I remember was finally feeling tired.

When I woke up, it had been in a hospital, with a bandage tied tight around my wrist and a nurse popping in every hour on the hour. Hello suicide watch.

My mom had called my dad, who had told her about a clinic in Boston that specialized in suicidal teenagers, and had a great success rate, and created productive members of society. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Surprisingly, my mother thought this was exactly what I needed. So once I had been discharged from the hospital, I had been given a bag, and a ticket.

If Blair hadn't died, I never would've felt the buzz. If I had never felt the buzz, I never would've started running. If I hadn't started running, I never would've taken Adderall. If I hadn't taken the Adderall, I wouldn't have been caught with it. If I hadn't been caught with it, I never would've been evaluated. If I had never been evaluated, I never would've been put on antidepressants. If I had never been on the antidepressants, I never would've tried to claw out my veins. If I hadn't tried to claw out my veins, I never would've gone to Boston. If I had never gone to Boston…well, I never would've….what?

Your life really does flash before your eyes. Every move you make puts you in the place you are now. Ironic in some ways. I lived with the desire of not making to the next step.

Actually, I was more of a living, breathing, literary device. I lived irony.

I didn't start truly healing until I had busted out of that clinic. As hard as those shrinks and group leaders tried, the hospital wasn't exactly a good place to heal.

More irony there, I had seem more lives destroyed in a hospital then saved. _You have cancer, your wife is miscarrying, your husband has suffered severe mental damage, your mother has Alzheimer's_ echoed through halls I had walked for six long months. Six months of fate and hope fighting each other in those antiseptic hallways.

My life had been saved by two of the most violent killers in Boston. That was a blessing. Ironic blessing sure, but a blessing nonetheless. Sometimes, it really does take a killer to save a life, you know?

I rolled my head back a little, and shivered. I was so cold. But that was to be expected. I mean, it had happened the last time too. The cold was a bad sign.

I forced my eyes open, and watched the blood pump from my wrist onto the concrete floor where the tattooed British man had left me. I was cold, that was a very bad sign. I knew from those doctor shows I had watched with my mom that I had already lost a lot a blood. But hey, I could tell that from the amount of the blood on the floor.

My shoulders hurt way to much to even attempt to move them. So I couldn't even flip my right hand over to cover my wrist. He had thought everything through.

And here it is, my crowing moment. I had gotten the wish I had wanted for the last five years of my life. I wanted to die. And now I had it. I got exactly what I wanted, exactly the way I wanted.

The prize jewel in my ironic crown I suppose. I had been murdered the exact way that I had tried to kill myself.

That man had worn gloves too, I think. Of course he did. That made it even better almost. My fingerprints were on the knife I still held in my hand. His were not.

I had a history of self mutilation.

They wouldn't be able to prove that he killed me.

If I hadn't tried to kill myself, then he wouldn't have been able to kill me.

_The supreme irony of life, is that no one gets out alive_ to quote Robert A. Heinlein, and it was the truest thing I knew.

Life kills us all.

At least I had finally had a question I'd always wondered about answered in this process.

Some people can sense that they're about to die.

I had been walking around with nothing but ice in my veins for the last two months, and I couldn't figure out why. Everything had been close to amazing. Heh, even Murphy and Tina had seemed to create this almost stability. The boys had been home, and everything had been good.

But I'd had that ice in my body, and now I knew why. That was the hand of Death. He'd never let go of me. He'd had a tight grip this entire time, ever since I'd gotten away from him that first time. He'd never let go of me. Maybe that's how I'd known that my time was finally coming.

_12:40_, a clock on a table in the distance flashed at me. I'd been laying here for eight minutes. My body was was slowly losing motion, and everything had gotten hazy.

I was thankful.

I had known the end was coming. That's more of a blessing then most people got. I had been able to make sure that the people around me knew how I felt. I had been able to take the time to leave them something. I had been given that gift.

My eyelids grew heavier, and my mind was struggling to keep control. I wasn't quiet ready to let go just yet.

Maybe I should pray?

No, there really wasn't a point to that. I had turned my back on God, there's no way I hadn't already damned my soul with the first suicide attempt. Or the inability to save my sister. Or the lie I had told my mother about Ian.

I could only hope there was some sort of justification. Maybe a glance at karma. I had done right by a lot more people then I had done wrong by, and I could only hope that those actions would be taken into account.

I lifted my eyelids and looked at the clock.

_Time of Death._ I thought _00:42_ _hours. _

**So, if you take the time out of your busy day to review...please don't yell at me too much? :]**

**and, for those of you interested, I've started up a Walking Dead fic, so if you wanna drop by and give me some feedback on that, i'd be your best friend! :D**


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's note!: I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sooooooooooo sorry it took me so long to get this out! After that last chapter, I had the *worst* case of writer's block I've ever expirenced! It was seriously brutal, filled with several days of iPod isolation to think! But here you go! Sorry if it's not up to is usual part, i just needed to get back on the horse, and i made it a wee bit longer, since it's been so long!**

**Disclaimer!: I don't own the BDS, and I get all my medical advice off of :] but on the plus side, you guys will now know how to treat cuts, burns and puncture wounds! :D**

**Thankyous!: Thanks to all you new reivews! and to all you old reviews and religous reviews, you all ROCK! You helped me reach my goal of 50 reviews! Hell! we passed it :D everyone take a shot in celebration.**

Chapter 23: It's Been A Long Day's Night, And I've Been Working Like A Dog

*Mika*

Tuesday to me, was Sunday to the devout Catholic. It was a religious day, the only one I got off during the week. The only morning my cell phone would never ring, my hair wouldn't smell like formaldehyde and I could have more then coffee doped with sugar and creamer for breakfast.

Tuesday was my Holy Day.

Which is why, when my cell phone rang, I was pissed immediately beyond all belief. I grabbed the blasted piece of plastic and pressed the green button.

"What?" I barked.

"Ah. I see that you aren't on call then, are you?" An unmistakable voice asked me though the phone. I bristled.

"What do you want Smecker?"

"I have a favor."

"Favor?" I scoffed into the phone. "_Favor?_ Are you kidding me? You _stole_ evidence from me, that would've put those vigilantes into prison!"

"So, that means no?"

"Fuck you."

"We need it to be _you_ Mika. Do you understand?"

"I don't want a spot in your boy's club." I snarled. "And besides, the last piece I got from the boy's club, were char-boiled Mafia members. So you can see why I'm not jumping at the chance for this? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get dental records from a guy who strikes a similar resemblance to you mother's cooking!"

"Mika, shut up."

"Why?" I grit my teeth. I had been woken up, then provoked. I was ready to explode.

"Because, we need you to examine the body. And it's not a mobster."

"Not a-" I was too tired for these games!

"It's not a mobster."

"Fuck." I whispered. I'll be there in twenty minutes." I hung up the phone and threw my covers back.

My holy day, now involved Saints. Ironic.

I pressed the heels of my hands deep into my eyes. How did I just give in like that? What part of hating was confusing me? I hated all of them.

But apparently, not enough.

.:.

I stood outside of the morgue and twisted my hair up with a clip. I put my glasses on and popped my fingers. I really didn't want to be here, but I couldn't help myself.

I was purely terrified by Smecker's words. _It's not a mobster_, well, if it wasn't a mobster. That left one of Smecker's three stooges, or Murphy, or-

Connor.

The idea was like ice with my veins. Connor couldn't be the body on my table. He just couldn't.

Not that I care.

Not in the slightest.

I rubbed my temples, and opened up the door to the morgue, and was met with screaming.

"I AM ON CALL! WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM WITH ME!" Tana screamed at Smecker.

"My problem, dear, is that I need a coroner familiar with this suspected gang, not a Tara Reid wannabe." Paul answered bitingly. I was almost tempted to let the two blondes duke it out. But, judging by Detective Dolly's face, it wasn't a good day to do that. I cleared my throat.

"Hey Tana, you just let me handle this." I told her, placing my hand on her shoulder. She glared at Smecker once, then sauntered out of the room. I waited until she left before I turned towards the two idiots. "So, what's going on?"

"Well, that's what we need you to tell us." Smecker answered. I glanced towards the table, and at the body covered by the yellow sheet.

"Who is it?" I managed to ask. Smecker just gestured towards the body as his phone rang, and he left the room to answer it. I slowly pulled the sheet down. _Not Connor. Not Connor. Not Connor._

"Oh my God." I whispered. Blaine? It was Blaine?

How could it have been Blaine? How? How did she become involved with this? How…could she be dead?

I clenched my hand against the cool metal of the slab. Anger so hot it nearly brought tears to my eyes coursed though my body. I clenched my teeth.

How could they let this happen to her? She was young, and she had placed all of her trust in them. It had been that obvious the few time I had talked to her.

She had helped them, and she ends up in the morgue. How is that fair? How is that protecting the innocent? How was that protecting her?

I could've prevented this…had I managed to keep a level head when I found out who they were. But instead, I had lost my head, and went to yell at them. Leaving the evidence wide open.

Actually, if I really thought about it, we were _all_ to blame.

I didn't stop them.

Tina didn't try.

Smecker and his boys condone it.

Connor and Murphy caused it.

I leaned against the table hard now. It was the only thing holding me up.

Her eyes were empty, a cruel mockery of what they were supposed to look like. They were dark, hallow, and etched in pain, yet peace at the same time. She had one bruise on her face. She was different from my other bodies though, her eyes were dead, but they weren't haunted. They were accepting.

She accepted her death.

I hadn't even realized I was crying until I saw the tears drip onto the metal table. I could feel the detective staring at me.

I drug my sleeve against my eyes to try and regain a sense of professionalism. I let out a shaky breath. "Do the boys know?"

"We haven't located them yet." Dolly answered, staring at me with a mix of pity and understanding. I steeled myself once more.

"So, they could be dead too?"

"Could," Smecker answered walking back in. "But they're not." he sighed. "Duffy went to check out that call we got about the fire at the motel-"

_No more burned bodies_ I prayed.

"-He found them two blocks away, passed out and 'beat to shit' as he put it." Smecker sighed. "They're coming here."

"They should go to the hospital." I sighed. Smecker gave me the look I've seen him give Greenly so many times.

"They can't. That would cause too many questions." Smecker explained. "We're going to need some emergency help."

"No." I shook my head. "I refuse to do that. The only reason I'm doing this, is because it's my job."_ and I feel partly responsible._

"First, do no harm." Smecker reminded me in a sing song voice. God! I wanted to hurt him.

"Do they know about Blaine?"

"No."

"Well, are you going to tell them?" I asked him. He sighed.

"I haven't decided yet. Depends on how responsive they are when they get here."

"Then shut the hell up." I turned back towards Blaine. I didn't really want to cut her open. I pulled the sheet off…and realized I wouldn't have to.

God almighty.

That was quite a deep cut. I lifted her arm, and examined it thoroughly. The cut was clean, very clean. Almost surgical, cut by someone who knew what they were doing. It cut right through her other three scars. I looked at Dolly. "How was she found at the scene?"

"Lying on her back, with her left arm stretched away from her, and in her right hand a knife."

"Prints?"

"Only one set, and we're still waiting on the results of that."

Across her chest were dark, sinister looking bruises, and there were also several bruises by her shoulder. "Was she found without a shirt on the scene?"

"Yeah, the blood puddle was disturbed, and because of the darkness of those bruises, Smecker assumed that the perp might've broken skin. His blood might've been on the shirt. He came back after she was dead, and took it."

"So, the other guy killed her?"

"That's what we want you to clarify." Smecker finally spoke. I picked up her left wrist again. The angle was precise. It was specific. It was only possible one way.

Awh hell.

"I don't think I think I need to cut her open." I finally spoke. "Cause of Death was the cut in her wrist, and as soon as you bring me the report on the fingerprints, I can rule it either murder or, or suicide."

"It doesn't make sense she would kill herself though!" Dolly argued. "I mean, the guy beat her up, then what?"

"She wasn't bound, or at least she wasn't very tightly. There's no sign of bondage on her wrists or legs, so whatever he used to hold her down, it wasn't very strong. He subdued her by the shots to the shoulders it looks like. Then he must've left her alone, around twelve thirtyish. Because that's when I got a call from an unmarked number telling me to watch out, because he had something that belonged to me. Not five minutes later, we get an anonymous 911 call about a hotel fire, and some suspicious activity in an abandoned building. We found Blaine there."

"And Duffy found the Saints at the burned down hotel?"

"Few blocks from it yeah." Smecker glanced down at his pager. "Well, duty calls. So, Dolly, let's go grab that print report. Mika, they could show up at any time, so if you have it in you, just take a look at them? Duffy says they're pretty bad off. If not, just send them to the hospital. They won't fight too hard." Smecker turned to leave.

"Wait! Do I tell them about-" I gestured down towards Blaine. Smecker shrugged.

"Up to you." then they left me alone.

I turned back towards Blaine, and I reached for a cloth. I wet it, and started to dab the blood and dirt off of her. It wouldn't be right to lie to them, especially not about this. But that didn't mean that they needed to see her at the worst. I could make her presentable. I could try.

.:.

"Yes, hi, this is Dr. Makoto, from the office of the medical examiner." I spoke into the phone. "And I'm calling about the APB I received from your hospital a few months ago. I received the missing patient this morning. Would you mind sending over her file, I need to contact her family. Please contact me as soon as you get this." my eyes trailed over to the cold chamber that currently held the girl. I hung up the phone and sat down in my chair. I was completely wiped out.

The metallic sound of someone knocking on the door woke me up a little bit later. I took a deep breath and walked over to the door.

"Oh my God." I whispered when it opened. That was not what I had been expecting to see. They really were beat to shit. Murphy and Connor had cuts, dark bruises and small circular burns. They had black ringed around their eyes, which looked as dead as any of my cadavers. "Get in." I ordered them. They limped into the morgue.

They were way too quiet.

"Which one of you is worse?" I asked. They glanced at each other.

"Murph." Connor mumbled. "He's worse."

"Alright then Murphy, come over here, and I'll see what I can do for you." I lead him over to the metal table and he got on. Completely silent. The exact opposite of everything I had come to understand about this MacManus brother. Murphy was still and silent. "Murphy, can you take your shirt off?"

He just shook his head.

"Why not?"

He held out his hands.

"Is that a _hole_?" I whispered. Murphy only nodded. I turned towards Connor. "What in God's name happened to the two of you?"

"Chelsea." He answered, staring at his brother. "She roughed us up pretty good."

"Conn-" I started, but realized it would be worthless. They were both in shock. "Can you help me get Murphy's shirt off?"

"Yeah." he nodded and walked over to the two of us. They both smelt like blood, sweat and smoke. As gently as we could, we maneuvered the shirt of the dark MacManus. When the shirt got near his hand, I just cut it off. Pulling it over those hands, especially his right, would've been too painful to even imagine.

Exposed, Murphy's story just got a whole lot darker. His chest was also covered in a few cuts, and dark, boot shaped bruises. I swallowed. "So, uh, Murphy, I'm going to check to see if anything is broken, alright? Is that okay?" I asked him. He again, didn't answer. I looked at Connor for help.

"Murphy, ba mhaith léi a sheiceáil ar ort. Mian léi a dhéanamh cinnte nach bhfuil tú ag briste. Tuiscint a fháil?" Connor murmured. I didn't understand a word of it. Murphy finally lifted his eyes from the ground though.

"Ceart go leor." Murphy finally spoke.

"What did you say?" I asked him.

"I told him ye wanted ta make sure we weren't broken. I asked him if he understood. He said he did. Yer alright." Connor nodded at me. I turned back toward Murphy and gently pressed my hand against his ribs. He flinched a few times, but they didn't feel broken, maybe fractured a bit. I trailed my finger down his spine, but that seemed completely in tact. I walked in front of him, and gently moved his head from side to side. I checked his legs, which showed a few more cuts, but weren't broken. "Alright. Nothing broken." I finally said. "Now, let's clean you up."

I walked over to the sink, and poured some water into a container, then I grabbed a few packages of sterile tweezers. I returned back to Murphy, and dipped a cloth into the water, and started to wipe the blood off his face. He had three cuts there that looked almost like they had been scratched there. Their situation was made worse do to the fact that they were filthy. I gently cleared away the blood, and examined the three scratches. I tore open one of the tweezers and started to pick out the larger pieces of dirt, to Murphy's distain. He growled a little, but I took that as a sign of life returning. "Your shots up to date?" I asked Connor as I squeezed some Neosporin onto my fingers and rubbed it into the cuts on his face.

"Aye. Had ta get them when we signed up fer da meat packing plant." Connor nodded. I went back to continue to clean and bandage all of Murphy's cuts.

The cigarette burns were another story entirely. I changed out the water, and grabbed a few more bandages and came back. I pressed the cool water against each burn, then surveyed the area surrounding the burn. I gently picked off all the skin that was around the burn. Once that was clean, I squeezed out a little Silvadene, and dabbed enough to cover the burn. Then I pressed a bandage against it. I had to do this for the twenty odd burns around his body.

"Alright Murphy, how you holding up?"

"Mm'okay." he mumbled. I was just grateful that he had finally spoken. Well, English.

"That's good, because this part might be rough." I told him as I examined his right hand. I looked at Connor. "You'll have to go to the hospital for that one. I can't do anything, and it's really out of place." Connor swallowed, but nodded.

"Aye, alright."

I grabbed his left hand, and stared at the puncture wound. I _hated_ puncture wounds to death. I walked over towards the sink again and pulled off my gloves, then scrubbed my hands again. I pulled on another pair of fresh gloves and returned to the brothers. "Murphy, it might be easier if you were to lay down." I suggested. Murphy just nodded and slowly lowered himself down on the table. "Connor, please come here." He walked towards me. I lifted Murphy's hand above his head. "Hold it there, would you?"

"Aye." He watched me as I continued to gather things. "What can ye do fer it?"

"Ah, well. It's a very complicated process." I sighed. "First, I have to mix the povidone with iodine, and mix with disinfected water. That's right here." I pointed to the cup of the mixture. "That's going to sit for a minute. So can you tell me what caused this?"

"A nail."

"Wow." I sighed. I grabbed a nail brush, and dipped it in the disinfectant solution. "Okay Connor. Hold tight." I told him, and his grip tightened on his brother. I started to scrub the wound, and Murphy started to moan.

"Christ, leave me da fuck alone!" he growled.

"It's better to hurt then get infected Murphy, I promise." I told him as I continued to scrub out the dirt from the hole in his hand. Connor's face looked heartbroken. "I'll be as gentle as I can." I told them both. Once that was clean, I let him take a breather. I had to find a syringe anyways.

I filled up the syringe with the disinfection solution, and took a glass slide, and pressed it against the bottom of the wound. I angled the solution so I would be able to flood the wound, and I began to do that.

"Fuckin' hell!" Murphy groaned. Connor kept murmuring in that musical language from before. I drained the wound, then repeated the process about five or six more times. Once I was finally finished with that, I bandaged that up tight.

"Alright, you're going to want to check on that everyday." I told them. "Is Duffy still outside?"

"Aye."

"Alright, have him take Murphy to the hospital. I'll take you over there after I clean you up. Okay?" I staged it as a question, but it was really a command. Connor just nodded, and helped Murphy up. I gave Murphy a scrub shirt. "Take it easy Murphy. I'll come check on you soon."

"Thank ye." he whispered, and allowed Connor to lead towards the door. I tossed the solution down the drain, and threw away all the wrappers. I grabbed more Neosporin, and Silvadene, and waited for Connor to come back.

"Thank ye." Connor told me as he hopped up on the metal table. I just nodded.

"First do no harm." I answered him with a shrug. "Shirt off Connor." he complied, and pulled the black mess off.

Murphy was a little worse off then he was, but Connor had more cuts. He had a stab wound in his shoulder. I shook my head as I started checking his chest for broken ribs. "Would you mind explaining what happened to you?"

"A lass from da Richardsons attacked me and Murphy." He whispered. "She tortured us."

"God." I whispered again. This was brutal. Completely brutal. I started the process of cleaning out his cuts. "How can you willingly walk into this?"

"Willingly?" he gave a slight laugh. "Nothing about that was willing. Not a damn minute of it. She tortured us, and made me sit there and watch as she crucified my brother." Connor was shaking now, I rested my hand on his shoulder.

"Your okay now Connor. You and Murphy both."

"Feels like something's wrong is all." he sighed and closed his eyes, and scraped his teeth across his busted lip. He was in some seriously bad shape.

"Nothing's wrong." I lied. I kept thinking about the innocent girl in my cold chamber right now. I couldn't tell him, not right now. His sanity was hanging be a thread as it were.

"Have ye heard anything about Blaine or Tina?"

"Nope." I answered, as I pulled out my dark thread so I could stitch up his shoulder after I was done cleaning it. He sat quietly while I worked, his head a hundred miles away.

Blaine's death was going to kill him. How was I supposed tell him?

_You'll have to tell them together. You can't make Connor carry that burden by himself. It wouldn't be right. So maybe when Murphy and Connor come back to the world of the living, it'll be right_

"What's got yer heart so heavy?" Connor asked, his blue eyes looking at me carefully. I shrugged.

"It's nearing three in the morning. I'm tired."

"Aye. Meself as well." he nodded. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"Christ." he whispered. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?"

"She had us for three days." He whispered. Then he blinked and looked at me again. "Isn't it your day off?" he asked as I cut the thread and knotted the end.

"Oh, uh. Yeah." I'll admit, that surprised me. I hadn't seen this man in two months or more, and he remembered my day off? "But Smecker had something he needed me to check up on."

"Ah." Connor nodded, then a small smile graced his face. "I'm uh, sorry by the way."

"What for?"

"That whole, uh, Hopfrog mess."

"Ah, the barbequed people." I nodded. "Yeah, that was a bitch and a half." Connor only grinned, and let me start to stitch up his shoulder.

I continued to put Connor back together, and after another half hour, I was finally done. More along the lines, I think of finally done with this Saints business. Connor and Murphy would be out of commission for a while, and might skip town altogether. So finally, _finally_ this nightmare would be over.

"And you're done." I smiled as I wrapped bandages around the cuts on his wrists, he smiled gratefully up at me, and looked like he might pass out.

"Thank ye again lass."

"Nice to have a breathing patient to be honest." I walked over to the sink and pulled off my gloves and yawned quietly. I pulled the clip from my hair, and turned back to the Saint on my table. "Ready to go check on Murphy?"

"Aye." he nodded and slid off the table. I was pulling on a black sweatshirt when there was more knocking on my door. I groaned and opened it, Connor leaning against the wall next to it, staring longingly at a cigarette.

"Yeah?" I asked as I opened it. Tana shoved an unmarked manila folder in my face. "What's this?"

"The secretary upstairs told me you made a request to get that dead psycho girl's information. Well, the paperwork clerk doesn't get on work until seven, and they have this new policy about postmortem paperwork so you need to fill this out." Tana babbled.

_Oh God no. _

I glanced at Connor, who was staring at me with a expression that mixed anger, shock, sickness and fear all in one.

"Thanks Tana. I'll get right on this." she nodded and walked away. I closed the door and faced Connor. He kept that expression on his face.

"No." he finally managed to say. "No, tell me it ain't-" I bowed my head.

"I'm sorry."

**So we're back on the board! Enjoy! And please drop a review :D**


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's note!: Oh, I feel so back. So freaking back. So after what seemed like days of iPod isolation, it finally plays out! Here's something I was actually exicted to put up! So I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!**

**Disclaimer!: I do not own the BDS, and hell, after what I've done to them, probably a good thing, huh. Also, I'm not a Coroner, or a Doctor, so I can't guarantee that everything is *100%* factual, but I do try!**

**Thanks yous!: MithLuin, you are just the smartest little bastard! And you indirectly helped get me out of a corner I had painted myself in, so I thank you to death! *Proceeds to begin eternal groveling* And another thank you, for little miss kdk2013, because she gave me the *brilliant* idea of the whole Connor and Mika exchange. Fucking Brilliant you are love! You are exactly what I needed to pull me through this!**

*Mika*

Connor leaned heavily against the wall, his already glazed eyes coating themselves once more. I clenched my fists and cursed Tana for bringing me that paper when she did.

It wasn't her fault in the slightest, and Connor did have to find out at some point, I was just hoping he wouldn't be in pain already. And hoping that his brother would've been given a clean bill of health. I cleared my throat. "Connor?"

"What." his voice wasn't broken like it had been before. It was hard, and ice like. I took a deep breath.

"We need to go to the hospital."

"I want ta see Blaine."

"Connor, I can't do that."

"The fuck you can't. Show me Blaine." he leaned off the wall and stood full height. His eyes were hard and cold, but suddenly clear. I felt my spine bristle. This wasn't Connor.

This was a Goddamned Saint.

"It's against protocol."

"Fuck yer protocol! I have a fucking right ta see her!"

"How do you have a right? Are you her brother? Her father? Is it on file somewhere that she was living with you? That she's even _related_ to you?" I snarled. "Because unless you have that for me, you won't be seeing Blaine."

"She's me fuckin' sister!"

"She's someone's daughter! She belongs to them! This isn't a peep show, you can't just come and see a body, especially one that's part of a criminal investigation!"

"Investigation! What fucking investigation! The Boss fucking killed her!"

"Hi Connor, welcome to the real world! That's a theory, and that requires evidence! Evidence, which needs to prove that happened! And right now, we don't have anything to prove that!"

"Would there be another option? What other fucking option?" Connor had gotten right in my face this point, and I drew myself up now.

If he wanted to do this, then we were fucking doing it.

"I haven't ruled her death yet." I responded.

Connor looked confused, and glaring at me like I was the biggest bitch on the planet. I just crossed my arms and waited.

"Murder or suicide aye?" he finally spoke. "If da body's with ye, den accidental death has already been ruled out."

"Yeah, you figured it out. Good boy Connor."

"Ye think she might've fuckin' killed herself?"

"There's evidence to support the fact." I answered slowly. "But as I said before, I haven't ruled it yet."

"Fuck!" he growled, running his hands though his hair. "Fuck! Fucking hell! Fuck!"

"Wow, you're eloquent." He eyes cut right to me.

"What the hell is yer fuckin' problem!"

"My problem? My problem is that I'm sitting here waiting for a phone call that could ultimately decide the future of this girl, and if I can't get anything I can work with…"

I hated ruling a death 'undetermined'. That ruling made a criminal trial almost impossible, and that is the worst thing you can give to a family. People don't just die, especially not in Blaine's case. She didn't just die, I just wasn't really sure what had happened to her yet.

"If ye can't get anything then what?" Connor's voice was different again, a little softer now. He looked like he was going to be sick. I chewed the inside of my mouth.

"Then I have nothing to tell her family." I answered. "Her parents deserve an answer."

"Not just her parents."

"Connor, you need to understand something here, she's not yours. Legally, and by blood."

"Fuck blood!" Oh good. The Saint was back. "Blood doesn't mean shit! She's as much my family as Murphy is!" His eyes flashed. "Fuck, Murphy. I'm going to have to tell Murphy." he turned back to me. "For months now, the lass has been living with us. She's ours, she's-she-we were looking out fer her, protecting her-"

"Are you serious? This is the best the 'protectors of the innocent' could do? This wasn't even a nameless girl in the papers either. This was a girl who was right under your nose! And she still manages to die! This is why I hate the Saints! All you do is cause unnecessary pain!" That painfully hot anger I had felt when I had first seen Blaine was back, searing through my body.

"Aye, me and Murphy did this." Connor spat back mockingly. "Did we pull the fucking trigger!"

"Did you stop the Boss, or _her_ from grabbing that damn knife! Where the hell were you! Why was she even in danger in the first place? Because you're one of the Saints! Because you decided at some point in your life that you were supposed to attack every _mobster_ in Boston?"

"Where was I? Watching my brother being fuckin' crucified right in fronta me! I was fucking tryin' ta get out! Trying ta get these assholes off da fuckin' face of the Earth!"

"Yes, because that's the most important thing isn't it?" I clenched my fingernails into my palms. "Your crusade?"

"They're evil fucking men? They do this to themselves! The deserve to fucking die!"

"At what cost Connor!" I could hear my voice getting louder. "Blaine's dead, Murphy looks like he's was on the threshold of Hell itself, and you aren't exactly in great shape yourself! Are you seriously going to stand there and defend yourself! Open your eyes. _You _killed Blaine. You might not have made the cut, but you put her in that situation. You didn't protect her."

"How can you fucking say that I killed Blaine?" his voice cracked. "How the fuck can you stand there and say that!"

"Am I wrong? Your consequences have actions Connor! Did you honestly think this would never catch up with you? Someday it was, you had to know that!"

"It has once before." His voice was glass. "We didn't take her on ta be a gunslinger! We didn't fuckin' recruit her!-"

"That's the worst of it!" I brought my hand up to my temple, where my headache flared. Great. Just great. "She wasn't the killer, she wasn't the gunslinger! She was just a kid! I shouldn't have left that bloody shoe alone! If you two had been in jail, none of this would've happened." I hissed. Connor's entire body went ridged. He walked towards me, until he had me backed against the wall.

"Oh aye, throw me and Murphy in jail, and then leave Blaine on her own. Great fucking call! She didn't get along with her family-"

"THEY'RE STILL HER FAMILY!" I screamed, my finger was inches from his face. "And now I have to call that same family, and get one of them out here, to identify the body of their daughter. A girl who shouldn't be dead! Murder or suicide!"

"It wasn't suicide!"

"How do you know!"

"Why the hell would she kill herself?"

"You left her alone! You left her alone, and she was taken, and she got hurt, and she believed she had no other way out, and you know what. She didn't. She was at the mercy of a man that you had pissed off in every sense of the word. You and your fucking crusade against evil men isn't doing shit!"

"It's doing more then the police are! Doing more then the lawyers and the judges are! Doing more then the fucking _law_ is!-"

"Fine! Great! I'm glad you fucking believe that! I'm glad you can justify the death of a child!"

Connor opened his mouth to speak, when my phone when off. I turned away from him and grabbed my phone. "What?" I barked.

"Everything okay?" Dolly asked me. I took a deep breath.

"Yeah. What do you have."

"We got the report back, and the fingerprints on the knife are hers." He told me. I held my breath.

That just didn't seem right. More then the sense of injustice of the situation. It wasn't right for some reason. It didn't make sense.

"Great. Thanks Dolly." I sighed and hung up the phone.

"What'd he say?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"Goddamn, you really are heartless." he hissed. I spun around to face him.

"Heartless? Really?"

"She's not mine by blood, but fuck, I still care about her! I still fuckin' love da lass! I want ta know what happened to her! I need to know. I need a fuckin' answer as much as you do."

I couldn't bring myself to look at the Irishman. His world had crashed down around him, in less then twenty four hours of reprieve from _torture_. Literal torture.

I only dealt with the aftermath of the work of the Saints. I never heard the story behind the body, and I didn't know the sins of the man.

But they were still human.

Connor knew he was doing right.

I knew he was doing wrong, how could we on such completely different ends on this spectrum.? How did a man like him end up in a situation like him? How did a man like him end up in my life?

How can things like this happen for no reason whatsoever?

"Mika, please, just fuckin' tell me."

"The fingerprints on the knife were hers." I answered him, looking up, mostly to make the tears that had suddenly reappeared stay in my eyes.

"Fuck! That just isn't fuckin' possible!"

_Maybe it isn't. Something about is seems wrong. So wrong. _

"Hey Connor, is she left handed or right handed?" I tossed out to the Irishman. He started at me, eyes critical.

"Why?"

"I need to know."

"Don't fuckin' throw shit out there just ta disprove it." he suddenly looked as if the world was on his shoulders. "Don't lift me fuckin' hopes if ye just intend ta smash them."

"Left or right Connor." I repeated. Connor closed his eyes, and rubbed a hand over his face once more.

"Fuck, I think she was right handed." he answered. "She couldn't sit next ta me at da table. We kept fuckin' bumping."

Damn it, if she had been left handed, then it would've been physically impossible for her to have made that cut, the first attempt wasn't clean, it was a jagged desperate mess. Could've been done with her non dominant hand.

Suicide wasn't exactly a clean business, with the emotions-

"Oh my God!" I whispered. Connor raised an eyebrow at me.

"Fuckin' what?"

I didn't answer, I was suddenly back in collage, in my favorite class, psychology. We had done a unit on the psychology of suicide, and there were signs of suicide, that we, as doctors, had to be aware of.

Humans aren't programmed to end their lives. They just aren't. Every human wants to die at some point, but not every human can go through with it. To take your own life, you have to fight every instinct you have.

What was it called! Damn it!

Hesitation marks.

Even the most intent to kill themselves, shy away after the first time a blade breaks their skin. Her cut was surgical. She might've been experienced in the act, but even she wouldn't have been able to cut without flinching, not matter how much she wanted it.

_This must be how Smecker feels once he's figured a scene out!_ I decided as the rush of understanding overtook my body. That's what had been missing! That's it!

I walked over to the cold chamber, I _had_ to check, I had to know for sure. The only thing holding me back, was the Irishman in the room. Shit.

"Connor, I need you to leave."

"No fuckin' way."

"Get…out." I turned back toward the Irishman. He crossed his arms, and shook his head.

God, I hated the Irish. Stubborn bastards.

"No fuckin' way." He repeated. I groaned, and realized that he was going to win this round.

"Are you going to be able to keep a level head here?"

"Won't know unless we try."

"Brilliant." I rolled my eyes. "Just stay over there. She's still part of the crime scene."

I opened the chamber, and removed Blaine as gentle as I could. She looked leagues better then when I had received her, but it still didn't make her look any less…dead. Connor walked closer, and leaned out to touch her. I grabbed his hand. "Gloves. You want to touch her, you wear gloves." he followed me over to my table, and followed suit as I pulled on a pair of gloves.

Returning back to her, I gently turned her wrist over so I could reexamine it, with a clear head. The cut was completely clean.

True, the angle was completely supported the idea that Blaine could've done it herself.

True, she had a history of this, and would know exactly how deep to go.

True, she had her fingerprints on the knife.

True, she was completely capable of doing it. But that didn't matter.

She didn't.

"Murder." I finally spoke. "I'm ruling this a murder."

I didn't get a response, instead, Connor was kneeling down by the table, one of Blaine's hands in his, and mumbling in a language I couldn't understand.

I immediately backed away from the table. I could give him this. After the monster I had been towards him, I could give him this.

Connor stayed there for maybe twenty minutes. I still had to take him to the hospital, and I couldn't leave him alone with the body. So I waited while he prayed.

"Will ye let Murphy see her too?" he asked, I looked and saw his eyes were swimming. I swallowed hard.

"Yeah. I can do that. Off the record of course."

"Thank ye." he pulled himself off the ground with a sigh, and started at Blaine once more. "This is why."

"Sorry?"

"This is why we do what we do." He explained. "Because there are thousands of girls just like her, who are raped, or murdered, or abducted, and they don't get their justice. They don't get anything. Just a broken family, and a cold case. This is why. For the other girls, the ones who didn't get anything."

I didn't know what to say, he had a justification for everything, and he wasn't going to stop, he couldn't stop. Not after this, not after what those people had put his family through.

"Do ye kind of understand now?" he asked, training his tired eyes on me. I sighed.

"I somewhat understand."

"Why were ye so fuckin' angry?"

"I just…" I sighed, and tossed the gloves into the garbage. I gently lead Blaine back into the cold chamber. "I'm starting to fear body bags."

"What?"

"Smecker called me this morning, and told me that he needed me to help him, and it had to do with boy's club, and that it wasn't a mobster."

"Aye?"

"Well, that left Dolly, Duffy, Greenly, Murphy and well, you."

"So, ye were afraid it was one of us?"

"Yeah. It's different when it's someone you know. Someone you care about." I explained.

"So, ye do give a fuck about us then?" he gave me a small smile.

"I was scared. I don't react well when scared." I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes for the first time in what felt like years.

"Scared?" he held doubt in his voice. I nodded.

"Scared it was you."

*Connor*

"_Connor!"_

_Fuck! Where the hell was that coming from? There were fucking doors everywhere! Which fucking door held the voice?_

"_Connor! Please, fuckin' help me!"_

_Murphy? Or was it Blaine? Why couldn't I find them?_

_Door after door, all of them just lead into rooms with more doors. This was fucking impossible._

"_Oh please God, please!" the voice kept screaming, kept crying. _

"_I'm coming! Just hold on! Please!" I called into the labyrinth of rooms. _

"_Please!"_

_I ran through door after door, needing to find something, anything. _

_Needing to fucking find them._

_I ripped another door open, and this door lead to a room with just one door. My heart pounded against my chest. I booked it towards the door, and pulled on the knob. It gave resistance. _

"_Fuck!" I lifted my foot, and beat it against the knob._

"_Connor please! You're so close!"_

_I kicked the door harder, I was not going to let them die! _

_I kicked the door as hard as I could, and the wood splintered with a crack, and I was able to push it open. The room was dark, the only light pouring in from behind me. I took a step in, trying to make out a shape in the darkness. _

_There was a thud, and a cry, and a hand flopped into the light. _

"_No!" I dropped down by the hand, and grabbed it. It was drenched in blood. "Fuck! No!"_

_I felt the cold of a blade pressed against the pulse in my neck. _

"_Sorry luv." a hand wound into my hair. "You're just too late."_

I jolted awake and let out a shaky breath. The bright lights of the hospital once again irritating a headache I hadn't even realized I had. Déjà fucking vu.

I had been curled up on a few of those plastic bastards with my jacket as a pillow. Waiting for any news on Murphy. I closed my eyes again, tried to calm my mind and heart simultaneously.

Last time I had been in the hospital, I had been the one who was with the doctors. Not the one who sat alone in the waiting room, shaking with fear, and realizing anyone wearing scrubs could come and give you the news that the most important thing in your life was dead.

"You okay?" I opened my eyes again, and looked up, shit. I had fallen asleep on Mika's lap. I pushed myself off of her and into a seated position. My shoulders more then anything protested my every move. I suppose if you have them suspended in the air for three days, they'll get a little fucking sore.

"Sorry." I muttered.

"Are you okay?" she repeated, her half closed eyes watching every single move I made. I sighed and shot her a smile.

"Yeah. Peachy."

"Yeah, I didn't mean physically."

"What did ye mean?"

"You were shaking, and clenching your teeth. And you whimpered maybe once." She yawned and reached for her hair band off her wrist. "Just seeing if you were okay." she added as she twisted her hair into a knot.

"I'm fine." I answered, staring at the ugly tiles of the hospital floor. Mika shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but I beat her too it. "Doctor been by?"

"No, not yet. But makes sense. Hands have very intricate mechanics. You probably won't hear much for a while." I only nodded. She was still staring at me. "What kind of pizza?"

"The fuck are ye talkin' about?"

"You haven't eaten for, what was it? Three days? You're eating. What kind of pizza?"

"Uh, tis like, only six in da morning." I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. "Cheese."

"Seriously?"

"I just so happen ta believe in da purity of pizza." I responded. She smiled and stood up. "I'll be back in like fifteen minutes."

"Alright." I answered. She paused, then left.

I wasn't alone for more then ten minutes when I felt someone slide into the chair next to me. I opened my eyes, and looked to my side.

"Tina? What da fuck are ye doin' here?" I asked the Egyptian as she gave me a smile. She turned her head so I could see the white bandage on her head. "Fuck, they got ye too?"

"I guess." she shrugged. "I was told to, you know, keep an eye on you." I gave a small bark of a laugh.

"I need ta be mollycoddled then?"

"I…don't know what that means." she admitted. "But, they told me to watch you, because they're trying to develop a reasonable story for why Murphy looks the way he does." she told me. Shit, she looked tired. "So they don't want you to be alone. You shouldn't be alone." she trained her gaze on the floor. "Bad things happened to the ones left alone."

I threw my arm around the quirky little lass, and she leaned against me, while, at the same time, letting me lean on her.

"We fucked up." I sighed. "Me an' Murph. We fucked up big time."

"We _all _fucked up." Tina amended. "And that just means that we all need to try to make it, you know, right."

"How?"

"I don't really know. But when you need to know, you'll know. Ya know?" she gave me a smile. I had to give her one back.

"Ye heard anything on Murphy?"

"I heard a couple of nurses complaining about a stubborn Irishman. So yeah, I think he's okay."

"Fuckin' need ta let us see him." I grumbled. Tina leaned her head against my shoulder.

"They will. Just take a deep breath Connor. You need to breathe. Once, twice, three times."

Tina didn't make sense to me half the fucking time, but I followed her advice.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

"You're going to be alright, ya know?" She told me after a few minutes. I raised my eyebrow.

"What are ye basing this off of?"

"I know you. And I know your brother. And I know you'll be okay."

"I hope yer fuckin' right."

"I am right. I am always right, and someday, you will figure that out. Until then though, I can wait."

"Aye well, I can accept it, Murph though, don't hold yer breath."

"Believe me, I won't." she assured me. We fell into a silence then, around the bustle of the hospital. Heh. This was not the hospital that I went to when I was shot. Good fuckin' thing. Don't think they would've been too happy to see us.

I don't remember falling asleep again, but I must have, because the next thing I knew, I was being prodded by a woman I didn't recognize. I eyed her wearily. "Sorry?"

"Sir, are you Mr. MacManus?" she asked me, and by the tone of her voice, not for the first time. I nodded.

"Aye Doc, what can ye tell me."

"Get comfortable Mr. MacManus. We need to have a long talk." I eyed Tina from where I was sitting, and her face was covered in worry.

Fuck, I'm having one fucking day.

**So there you have it! Please drop a review if it suits your fancy! And if by chance there is a soul in the medical field out there, drop me a line, I have a few questions!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's note!: So, I don't know about this chapter, but we needed to get back into Muprhy's head, so here you go! The innerworkings of an Irishman, who's taken one too many hits to the head. But hey, we love him anyways! This literallly has mabye three more chapters, so hello end in sight! Possible sequeal? What do you guys think?**

**Disclaimer!: I don't own the Saints, as for my OCs, well, apparently I just end up killing them off :]**

**Enjoy! :D**

Chapter 25: Let's Get Fucked Up and Die

*Murphy*

_Smack _

The nurse who was checking the jagged line on the machine that determines if I'm alive or not jumped, her back going pin straight in a second. She whirled on me, fire in her dark eyes, her mouth drawn up in a scowl. "Excuse me?"

"What's wrong darlin?" I smirked.

"Well suga, I'm just trying to figure out what has you so deranged that you thought it a good idea to smack my ass."

"Oh?" I raised my eyebrow. "Did I smack yer ass love? I didn't mean ta! They got this here hand of mine so numb I can't tell if it's comin' or goin'. Sorry lass."

The corners of her scowl twitched, and the fire in her eyes turned more mocking. "Oh is that right?"

"Aye." I smiled.

"Well, I would buy that, but it wasn't your left hand we numbed up there sug, it was your right."

"Oh." I considered what she said. "Well, looks like the morphine's got me all sorts of turned around then huh?"

"Yeah well, allow me to set you straight." She crossed her arms. "You touch my ass again, and the next thing that goes in your IV puts you into a coma. Understand there suga?"

"Crystal clear love." I smiled again as she glared at me once more for good measure, then proceeded to storm out of the room. I leaned against the pillow and kept the smile on my face.

She had a nice ass, almost worth the coma.

"Yer a right bastard, ye know dat right?" my eyes flew open, and relief flooded my body.

"Conn! Yer okay!"

He only scoffed at me as he walked into the room. 'Okay' was pushing it. He was covered in the same array of bandages that I was. His lip was busted six ways to Sunday, and there was still dried blood in his mouth. His eyes were tinted and he looked straight tired.

"A'course I'm okay. Like fuck some little girl's gonna do me in."

"I dunno, ye seem ta have problems with the lasses beating you up. Like the lesbian." I reminded him. He only waved the words away.

"T'was a fuckin' man, ye know dat as well as I do." He gave me a shit eating grin. "Tis nice ta be able ta say 'Fuck' again though."

"Aye isn't it though?" I shook my head. "So, ye sure yer okay?"

"Aye Murph. Sound as an Irish pound." he assured me. He pulled up a plastic chair and took a seat, groaning as he did. "Are ye okay?"

"I think so." I answered, looking up. "I'm on so much shit, I don't feel much of anything."

"The doc talk to ye?"

"Aye, but I didn't understand a word the lass was saying." I admitted. "She's a sweet thing, but too many doctor words, not enough English."

"Twins we are! I couldn't understand a fuckin' word either. She had ta repeat herself about three times before she had to leave, then I had ta get Mika to explain it ta me."

"Aye?" I sat up a little, using only my left hand. I hadn't been lying when I said the right was numb. It was as if it wasn't there. "What's the damage?"

"Well," Connor sighed and ran a hand through his hair "there's damage alright. Ye broke two fingers, and yer wrist, and ye scratched up some tendons or something of the like. The doc said if the tendons snap, ye won't be able ta move yer fingers. Since they're all fucked up, yer bandaged up tight, and ye can't use yer right hand until they fix themselves. Which they'll do. But ye have ta take it easy, because if the tendons or whatever snap, ye have ta have surgery."

"Jesus Christ." I moaned glanced down at my almost mummified hand. "Dat bad?"

"There's also some nerve damage." Connor smiled ruefully. "But, until ye get back ta actually using yer hand, we won't know how that affects ye. _And_-"

"And? Christ, it's just one fuckin' hand!"

"Aye, I know. Figures right? But the good doctor also threw around the term 'physical therapy' a few times. Basically man, yer hand's a fuckin' waiting game."

"How long?"

"A long while." Connor admitted. "But, if need be, we can get through dat shit."

"What about Richardson?" I asked, getting annoyed. Something flashed across Connor's face, but I couldn't catch what it was before it was gone.

"We'll get him. He ain't gonna be able ta hide. Not after what he fuckin' did to us."

"Got that fuckin' right." I nodded. "So, ye said Mika's here? Did the two of ye finally work something out?"

"Somewhat." he mumbled.

"So, did the good doctor say when I can get out of here?" I asked, bringing my left thumb up to my mouth and chomping down on the skin by my nail. Connor frowned and pulled my hand out of my mouth.

"Knock that off." he rolled his eyes. "And the doc was sayin' maybe overnight. Cuz yer heads so fucked up."

"Are ye fuckin' serious? No! No fuckin' way I'm stayin' here overnight." I shook my head. "My head is da least of me concerns. Besides, all I wanna fuckin' do is sleep in my own bed. How long's it been since we been home man?"

"Three days." he answered. "Going on three days."

"Holy hell, isn't there anything ye can do ta get me da fuck out of here?"

"I'm as beat ta shit as ye are." Connor snickered. "Doubt any of these good doctors are goin' ta let me take ye home."

"What if the good doctor of da dead were ta come home with us?" I smiled. Connor turned slightly red.

"I'm sure she has better shit ta do. It's her fuckin' day off."

"Ours too. Come on man, I wanna fuckin' go home! Don't ye?" I asked, confused. Connor hated hospitals more then I did, why the hell was he so hesitant to get the fuck out?

"Aye, a'course I do. I just have some shit I have ta do first, that's all." he told me, his eyes dark. That emotion I hadn't been able to place before was back, hidden in every shadow of his face.

"What shit?"

"Nothin' man."

"Don't fuckin' lie ta me man, come on."

"Ye just take yer medicine and get better aye? I'll fuckin' take care of it."

"Take care of what?"

"Nothin' Murphy." Connor reached over and messed up my hair. I glared at him.

"Fuckin' talk man."

"No reason ta. I'll take care of it, and it'll work itself out, it has too." he responded. The answer was there, it had to be, Connor wore his pain in his movements. Hurt wore him down, made him break into nothing right in front of people. He was about halfway there, what the fuck could've happened after I left the morgue? Hadn't Connor been right behind me?

"What happened after I left?"

"Huh?"

"The morgue. What happened after I left the morgue."

"Oh, nothing really. Got into a fight with Mika. Lass ripped me a new asshole."

"What else?"

"Nothin' else."

"Bullshit! What's got yer heart so heavy man?"

"Fuckin' scary, how ye do that."

"Nah, I've got me a timeshare in yer head." I smiled. "What else happened?"

Connor ran a hand through his hair again, he looked away from me, towards the door. "They attacked us at home too Murph."

"What? Just now?"

"No. About a day ago I think."

"Shit! What happened?"

"Tina's out there with Smecker and them, she got a nice one on the head. She's alright though."

Fuck, they hurt Tina? Those bastards, they kept fucking with my family. I couldn't wait until my hand was better, I was going to personally deliver the bullet to each motherfucker with those damn words tattooed on their skin.

I was going to get the little bitch too. That Monster didn't deserve to live. I understood why my brother couldn't kill her, he was a good man. He couldn't justify the killing of a woman in his heart. I'm not a good a man as my brother however, I had no problem killing that woman. I would have no problem when I found her again. She wouldn't survive that exchange.

"And what about Blainey?" I asked. Connor fell silent, I noticed his hands trembling slightly. "Conn? What happened to Blaine?"

"Awh fuck Murphy." He muttered, his voice thick. "Fuck fuck fuck!"

"Conn, please fuckin' tell me she's okay." I pressed. "Tell me she's goin' ta be okay? Tell me fuckin' something!"

"She's, she-" Connor dropped his head into his hands. "She's not okay Murph. They got her."

They got her? That meant a thousand different things. They took her, they cut her again, they raped her, they got to her. I needed to know what that meant, but at the same time, the last thing in the world I wanted to know right now, was what happened to Blaine. "What's that mean Conn?" I finally managed to spit out, accompanied by a small crack in my voice.

"The Boss killed her." Connor answered quietly. "The Boss fucking killed her."

Oh God no. That could not be possible, it just couldn't. Blaine couldn't be hurt, it just wasn't possible. She couldn't be hurt, she couldn't be _dead_. I couldn't lose her, not like that. It was Blaine, she was supposed to be in the kitchen right now, glaring at a coffee pot until it gave her enough for a cup. She was supposed to bitch at me and Connor about how messy we were, how we were the most testosterone-y people she'd ever met.

Blaine was supposed to be alive.

"He killed her?" I whispered.

"Well, Mika ruled her death a murder. But she's out there arguing about it with Smecker." Connor couldn't stop talking now, he had to get it off his shoulders. As much as he wanted too, he couldn't carry the burden by himself. "They don't agree. Smecker thinks it was a suicide."

"That's not fuckin' possible!" my response was immediate. "There's no way Blaine killed herself! She wouldn't-she wouldn't do that." _She wouldn't do that to us_

"I know, but they can't seem to settle on it." Connor's head was still bowed. "There's too much evidence, but the other has stronger evidence, I don't fuckin' know." Connor lifted his head, and I saw his eyes were swimming, his jaw clenched. "We fuckin' killed her Murphy."

He was right, it didn't matter to me if she had been murdered, or she had taken her own life. She wouldn't have if we hadn't taken her from the hospital. If we'd never met. If we hadn't put her in danger. If we had just left rather then brought her down with us.

_Didn't fuckin' do it alone either_ my head supplied. That's fucking right we didn't. That Boss was dead. That entire syndicate was dead. They don't get to fuck with us like that, they don't get to _kill_ someone I love and get away with it. Not an innocent.

They killed a kid. She was fucking 18! They attack Tina, they fucking torture my brother, they kill various other people, just to fuck with me and my brother?

_Fine, they want to fuck with the Saints, it's on. No fucking way we're walking away from this, not after what they've done. What they'll continue to do. _

I went to clench my fist out of habit, and pain, hot and searing traveled up my arm. I instantly relaxed my hand.

Well, that is, if I'm ever able to pick up a gun again.

That realization hit me hard. What if I wasn't going to be able to pick up a gun again? What if that had been taken from me? That Monster had attacked my fucking Sainthood.

"Ye'll get it back." Connor mumbled, voicing my thoughts. "I know ye will. We'll be able to fix this."

"Aye." I nodded. "We fuckin' have to. An eye for a fucking eye."

.:.

"Murphy?"

"Hey lass." I smiled at Tina. She walked over to my bed and she exhaled.

"Thank God." she whispered as she got closer.

"Ye talkin' ta my God now?"

"Lot of good Isis ever did me." Tina rolled her trippy eyes. I snorted. "Murphy, are you okay?"

"A'course. Just a little beat up." I answered, trying to pull myself up, while I was doing that, I made room. "Hop up here would ye?" I asked. My response was the twinkle of her bracelets as she laid down next to me. I threw my semi-okay arm over her waist and let out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding.

She was okay. She was alive.

"You sure you're going to be okay?" She asked.

"Aye."

"Good." She nodded. "I'm you know, sorry."

"Th' fuck for?"

"I, they, Blaine was with me." she whispered. My heart broke over again. Each time I heard her name, guilt as cold as ice traveled down my spine.

"Ye didn't kill her." I murmured. "Twasn't yer fault in the slightest."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"Aye. Of course."

"Good." She smiled. "Because it's not your fault either."

"The hell?"

"I know you Murphy." she smirked.

"Aye, so you've said." I closed my eyes. Fuck, this drug shit made me sleepy. "Whose fuckin' fault is it then?"

"I don't know." She finally answered. "It could be everyone, and it could be no one. There's only one person who can answer that, and well, they can't answer it. You know?"

"Aye." I felt my eyes get heavier. "Can ye do me a favor lass?"

"Sure."

"Can ye go tell Connor to go home and sleep? If he stays here, he'll fuckin' kill himself. Go get Mika to take the lad home, and make sure he sleeps. Can ye do that fer me?"

"Of course." She smiled and got up, heading off towards the door. My nice ass nurse walked in, with a needle. I eyed the thing warily.

"Ye planning on puttin' me down?"

"No suga, I plan on knocking you out." She smiled. "That way, us nurses can molest you while you don't realize it."

"Sounds fuckin' good ta me." I smirked as she stuck the needle into the IV in my arm. I grimaced and she patted my head.

"You'll wake up in a few hours."

"Awesome. What da fuck else does it do? Will I glow?"

"You'll be higher then a kite sug. You'll fly." She smiled, then left the room.

God almighty. I was tired. I heard the door open again, and I was half tempted to smack Nurse Fineass once more.

"Oy, Murph." Connor nudged me.

Hmmm, good fuckin' thing I decided against the whole 'ass smacking' ordeal.

"Fuck you want Connor?"

"I ain't fuckin' leavin' ye here."

"Yes ye are. Ye need sleep man. And ye won't get it on those chairs, trust me."

"Fuck, I can wait."

"Four days without sleep?" I raised my eyebrow. "Come on man, get some sleep. Fer me?"

"I don't wanna fuckin' leave ye here."

"I can stay with him." Tina offered, walking back into the room. "It's exactly the same as babysitting drunk Murphy. You know?"

Connor looked between the two of us, and then sighed. "I'm not sure."

"I think it's a great idea." Mika imputed form the door. "You need sleep too, come on Connor. I'll take you home." Connor looked back at me once more.

_Go._

_Are ye sure?_

_Completely._ I nodded as I ended the conversation. I was tired, and I wanted to make sure he was alright before I passed the fuck out. Connor nodded back. "Alright lass, let's get da fuck out of here."

Connor finally left, and Tina walked back over toward me. "Spot's still there for ye." I smiled. She crawled next to me, and this time, she curled into my body, careful of every cut and burn. I sighed and held her as close as I could, my lips pressed against her forehead.

"You're trouble Murphy MacManus." She murmured. I smirked.

"Always. Always." I brought my hand under her chin, and tilted her face up. I pressed my lips against hers, and she instantly wound her fingers in my hair. I smirked into her kiss and she broke away from me.

"Trouble."

"Aye. But ye love trouble. Don't ye?"

"More then I should. I'm sure."

.:.

It was four more rounds later when the drugs had finally released me from their hold. It was almost eight in the evening. Tina was curled into me still, her breathing slow and steady, and dead to the world herself. The doctor had given her some painkillers for the head injury, so she had a few more hours of sleep.

My head was clearer then it had been in days, and every fiber of my body told me to get the fuck out of the hospital. I needed a smoke, and bad.

I gently untangled Tina as much as I could, then she just turned away from me, and fell back into sleep. I slowly got off the bed, gripping the sides as the head rush attack hard and strong. Once the spinning finally subsided, I glanced around the room. I didn't really want to be wandering around the hospital in the fucking gown. That wasn't happening. The IV wasn't happening either.

I maneuvered that out of my arm as gently as I could, then applied some toilet paper to the bleeding spot. Now, for the clothes.

There were hospital issued sweats, so that was a plus, but I didn't have a shirt still. Fuck. I looked around my room, and saw Tina's massive black hoodie on the chair. Better then nothing. I pulled the thing on, and was relieved to find her smokes and lighter in the pocket. I walked past a few nurses on my way out, but luckily they weren't mine.

_Thank ye God_ I sent up a quick prayer as I got out of the hospital and I pulled out a smoke. I gave a small smile when I realized the night air wasn't frigid, but held the telltale heat of spring. I lit the smoke and took a deep drag.

_"Murphy! This is a hospital!"_

_"So? It isn't a smoker's room?"_

_"Does this look like a hotel room Murphy? Hospital's don't come with that option."_

"Fuck." I whispered as the memory hit my head like a freight train. Blaine was dead. Jesus. I sucked down the smoke as fast as I could, and turned back towards the hospital, but something was stopping me. I couldn't go back in there. And it's a hell of a lot easier to sneak out of a hospital when you haven't been shot.

_"Are you retarded?"_

_"Blaine-"_

_"Connor can't walk! He can't even stand you idiot! Do you know how much morphine he has in his system? He'll be in complete hell for months Murphy! And what, are you planning to baby-sit him for the next seven months? Do you not work?"_

_"No, I work…"_

_"So you're going to leave Connor in agony and alone?"_

Oh God, I had to get her out of my head. I just had too. I knew exactly the place to do it.

I lit another smoke, and turned away from the hospital, walking away.

I had to get her out.

**Author's note 2!: It seriously is that easy to walk out of the hosptial, at least the one I went too...I just wanted a pepsi so damn bad...and it was right across the street...just pop out the IV and cover your bracelet, and boom. Instant out :)**

***Do not try this at home, results may very***

****I don't want to be a bad example! D:****


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's note!: Okay, so I changed the story title, and I know, indecisive much? Well yes, I am. I *hated* the title, but I didn't have anything better to call then, then I was rereading, and realized the theme of the fic was the title i was looking for, funny how that works, no? Anyways, here's chapter 26, and I must say, aside from 22, this might be my favorite one! Enjoy!**

**Oh and Murphy's little bubble trick, Norman Reedus did it in Blade ll, and it was just too bad ass for me to not put in here...the things that man can do with cigarette smoke...**

**Disclaimer!: No ownage of the BDS!**

**Thank you!: To everyone who's reviewed so far, I thank you! and a special thanks to SunlitMercy, for helping me develop Murphy's new best friend!**

Chapter Twenty Six: And You Shall Have The Protection Of All The Angels

*Murphy*

It had been on and off for the last two hours.

First hour, off. I only stared at the amber liquid in the glass in front of me.

Second hour, on. I drank shot after shot, after shot. Anything to get the voice in my head to shut the fuck up for a while. She wouldn't leave me alone.

_"I'm Blaine, by the way" She told me, playing with the pen._

_"Murphy" I gave her mine. She nodded. A smile crossing her face._

_"Alright Murphy, let's do this stupid paperwork!" _

This hour, it was off again. I stared at the dark liquid once more, unable to swallow anymore, yet unwilling to leave. I just wanted things to stay the same for a little while. Just a little while. But nothing had been the same for a long time.

Not since St. Patrick's. after that, there was no stability.

We became killers of evil men, we took down an entire room of people in under three seconds, and we got out unharmed. We took Rocco in. we were untouchable. Then, the evil men killed Rocco. We had a justified reason to go after these men.

Then Il Duce shows the hell up. That's who he is to me. Il Duce, the duke, that's him. He's not Da. He doesn't get to show up and be Da. I'm not like Connor, I can't be as welcoming as he is. Il Duce is a fucking stranger, and he shows up, after trying to _kill_ us, he creates this hierarchy that we're all of a sudden supposed to follow. Like we owe him or some other shit. Like he matters. But because Connor is a good man, Connor follows the rules. He hates avoidable consequences.

I thrive off of them.

"Hey hon? That beer's not going to drink itself." the same feminine voice I had been hearing behind the bar all night came back. I had yet to look up since I got here. I was pretty beat to shit, and this wasn't McGinty's. I actually hadn't been to this bar before. I didn't want to answer questions.

"Hon?"

Persistent little barmaid, I'd give her that. "What ye want lass?"

"Hey hey! A bogtrotter, well, now I really am in Boston." her tone became mocking. I bristled, an looked up at her. My retort died on my tongue.

"Yer hair's fuckin' pink."

"Good job. You know your colors. Your mom must be so proud."

"Proud isn't at the top of the list."

"Hey hey! My mom hates me too." She smiled and leaned against the bar, showing of her rather impressive rack. "So tell me, what's got you down there Shamrocker?"

"Ye a fuckin' Brit or something?" I growled.

"Worse. Canadian." She smirked. "And I've been a bartender long enough to know that if an Irishman is wasting his time starting at a drink, there's something wrong." She reached over and drowned my beer.

"What the fuck?"

"Oh worse then I thought." She winced as she set the glass down. "That was almost room temperature. Isn't that a cardinal sin for your people?"

"Fuck off."

"So what's got you down kid? Same person who beat you up?"

"Nope."

"So, is it girl trouble, or family trouble? Or maybe even work trouble?"

"My trouble right now is an annoying little bar wench, who won't leave me da fuck alone."

"Huh. Sounds like a bitch. Did you know the best way to get rid of a bitch is to give them what they want?"

"Don't think I should enable da bitch."

"You don't have the patience to wait me out."

"Ye don't fuckin' know me."

"I am trying to get to know you, but you just won't budge there. So you talk, or I stay."

"Pour me another fuckin' drink." I muttered. She poured three.

"So ready to talk now TaterSucker?"

"Yer not a people person, are ye?"

"Just tell me what's wrong."

I took two of the three shots. "Work, family."

"Them's the pits brother. What else?"

"Makes you think there's something else?"

"You didn't take the third shot."

"Who da fuck are ye?"

"My name is Angel, and you are?"

"Murphy."

"Of course it is." she rolled her eyes. "So, what's the other shot for."

"This shot," I slurred, "Is for the death of my faith. Here's ta a dead God." I drained the thing. Angel frowned.

"No need to blame God. You know, people never thank him when things are good, but when things go bad, everything is his fault. That's not fair."

"I don't call upon God only when I need him. I'm a regular in the worship department. But he fucked me over real good this time."

"Isn't that a rosary around your neck?" she pointed toward the beads showing from under Tina's hoodie. "Mary on your neck? Doesn't sound like a man as devout as you would be thinking such things."

"No other way to put it."

"What's happened that got you so down?"

"Me little sister died."

_"Fuck you both." Blaine responded, grouchy faced as anything._

_"Yer just a right ray of sunshine in da morning aincha?" Connor asked her. She growled._

_"No coffee, you don't get happy-sugar cubes-sunshiney-rainbow-Blaine. You get fuck-with-me-and-I-cut-you-Blaine."_

God lass, leave me be!

"Oh." the bar wench grew softer for a few minutes.

"Aye. So I can say dat God sent me a big 'fuck you' in the last few days."

"I think you're being stupid. God doesn't will misfortune on people. The devil does."

"Don't ye be cryin' 'Devil' in Massachusetts. Bad fuckin' things happen. Or don't dey teach ye about dat in Canada?"

"God didn't cause it."

"Sure as fuck didn't stop it."

"What did you expect him to do? Drop out of the sky?"

"Just fuckin' forget it. Ye wouldn't understand."

_Expect him to drop out of the sky? No. Course not. I expected not to lose everything I knew in the span of three days. That's what I fucking expected. I expected the innocent to live, and the evil do die. That's what I expected._

"Hon-"

"Pour another fuckin' drink, would ye?"

"I think you might wanna lay off the hard stuff."

"Why's dat?"

"Drinking and drama don't mash well."

"I can't keep fuckin' feeling this shit anymore. Jus' pour would ye?"

"So, Shamrocker-"

"Ye already called me that."

"I know. But I like that one. Anyways, Shamrocker, there someone I can call for you? Someone to come get you?"

_Oh shit. Connor's probably pissed beyond belief at me. Probably should've left a note or something._

"Nah. Me family's not exactly solid right now. I'm just hiding out."

"You'll have to go home sometime."

"Aye. Well, not anytime soon." I reached into Tina's pocket and pulled out another smoke. Looks like I'd have to buy the lass a new pack. "So, why not throw another round on the table, and leave me ta my vices huh?"

"I'm sorry about your sister."

"Aye. She didn't deserve ta die. But then again, no one gets what the deserve. Right? That's society's fatal flaw. The weak of heart live, while the strong of heart die off. That's how we work."

"_We_ don't work. Fate works for us, we really have no control."

"Fuck fate. Fate is this fucked up conception that you can do whatever the hell you want on the basis of 'it was going to happen anyways'. Fate is just another way to sin."

"You can't believe that, fate is something constant. Ask anyone, there's things that happen to us, that we don't understand. That would be fate. Isn't that what it says in the bible? Everything happens for a reason."

"Death of an 18 year old is justified den?"

"No, but it didn't happen just because. There is that it happened. You just might not know it yet."

"She was a good person. There is no reason on this planet that justifies it."

"You're too stubborn to look past the obvious?" Angel sighed. I blew smoke toward her. She snatched the cigarette, and blew rings back at me. Not one to ever be undone, I lit another, and blew my smoke into a bubble using my saliva.

"Yer turn." I smirked as the bubble popped.

"Oh, that was hot."

"Aye, easy way to pick up chicks." I smirked. "Now, either pour me a drink, or go bother another drunk."

.:.

"_Hey Murphy, are you busy?"_

"_Jus' watching over me brother lass." I answered, gesturing to Connor's sleeping form on the hospital bed. Two days, and no sign of life from him yet. _

"_Feel like a break?" Blaine smiled at me, and I raised my eyebrow._

"_What'd ye have in mind?"_

"_Follow me." _

_So I did, and she lead me to a supply closet, with a baby faced doctor at the door. "Hey Doc, got what I asked for?" She smiled as she walked up. The doctor nodded._

"_Here you go, but remember, anyone asked, I ain't sneaking you this shit." He smiled, then continued on his way. _

"_What da fuck is that?" I asked her as we walked away, back towards the elevator. She grinned wide at me. _

"_Bubble wrap, my good man."_

"_What da fuck are ye doin wit dat?"_

"_You'll see." She winked. I followed her across that damn hospital, until we stood outside of the Pediatric Oncology ward. I lifted an eyebrow._

"_Come on." She grabbed my wrist and lead me deeper into the ward. My heart broke maybe six or seven times over as we walked. These kids were so fuckin' little._

_Finally, we reached a room that held maybe four kids in it. Two girls and two boys. The boys had giant Bruins caps over their heads, and the girls had sparkly pink scarves. _

"_Blaine!"_

"_Hey guys." She smiled at the group. "This is my friend Murphy."_

"_Hi Murphy." One of the girls smiled at me. _

"_Nice ta meet ye Gayla." I smiled and shook her hand. The boy giggled._

"_He talks funny."_

_Blaine snickered. "Right? He's so weird." She pointed to the two boys. "So Murph. That's Trevor, and Dylan. Then these two are Sarah and Bailey."_

"_What'd you bring us Blaine?" Dylan asked, bouncing up and down. _

"_I brought you bubble wrap." She grinned at them. "Sorry it's kind of lame, but I'll bet I could scrounge up a pack of cards if we get bored enough."_

"_Yeah!"_

_I spent the next half hour on bubble wrap teams. Boys vs. Girls. Me, Dylan and Trevor did a darn good job, but that little Bailey was quicker then anything. "Ha!" Bailey cried as she popped hr last bubble. "We win! Girls rule and boys drool!"_

"_I most certainly do not drool!" I defended myself. Blaine laughed._

"_Losers get the cards Murphy." She winked at me. "Go ask one of the nurses, tell her room 405 needs them."_

_So I walked over to the nurse's desk to ask for the cards. A pretty lass with gold hair handed me the back. "I've never seen you here before. You a volunteer?"_

"_Nah, I'm with a friend."_

"_Blaine?" I nodded. "What's she bring them this time?" she asked with a chuckle. _

"_Bubble wrap."_

"_Well, that's impressive."_

_I walked back with the cards, and lost maybe four to five games of crazy 8's. Dylan dominated that game. After that, Blaine told me she'd be right back, and she left with the two little girls. I sat in between Dylan and Trevor. _

"_Wanna know a secret Murphy?" Trevor smiled. _

"_Lay it on me."_

"_I have a crush on Blaine." he giggled. _

"_Awh, I'll bet she's got a crush on ye too."_

"_I hope so. She's pretty. She say she's sick too. But not sick like us, a different kind of sick."_

"_She's getting better." I answered him. "Just like you."_

"_When I get better. I'm going to ask her out." he grinned, showing off his gapped smiled._

"_I'll bet she says yes."_

_After another hour or two, the nurse kicked me and Blaine out of room 405, and she walked me back to Connor's room. "Yer a good lass." _

"_Huh?"_

"_For doin' that. Yer a good lass." _

"_Nah." She shook her head. "Their parents work, so they get bored. My parents never come see me either. So we hang out. They're only six, so they get bored. Fills my void too."_

"_Ah. Well, still."_

"_Thanks for coming with me, not a lot of people can handle that."_

"_It was the most fun I've had in a few days." I smirked at her. "Trevor's got himself a crush on ye."_

"_Really?"_

"_Aye. A massive one. He plans on asking ye out once he gets better."_

"_Oh wow." She smiled. "I'm flattered, but I'm nowhere near his league. He deserves much better."_

"'Last call I taunt, throw your faces off the bar.'" Angel sang at me. My every cell felt weighed down by cement. "'Go to church 'cuz you need a good cleansing of body mind and soul.'"

The memory was still fresh in my mind, and it hurt to even think about. God, I couldn't believe she was dead.

"Shut da hell up." I murmured. She only sniggered.

"Sorry there Paddy, but I'm serious about last call, I'm closing up shop, you need to get your ass elsewhere."

"Aye?" I lifted my head from the bar. Angel and her pink head were the only ones besides me in the bar. "What fuckin' time is it?"

"We're reaching the two am mark. Bed time for me. So, is there anyone you want me to call?"

"Nah. I can get home on me own."

"You sure? You're pretty far gone."

"Aye, well, I'm a big boy. I'll be alrigh'" I could hear the slur in my words. Angel placed her hand over mine. I looked up at her.

"You'll be okay. God will take care of you. I promise."

"He fucked me."

"No he didn't love. Just trust me. God will take care of you. Everything you feel now, he'll help you deal with. He'll protect you. He protects the saintly." She grinned coyly at me. My eyes cut to her.

"Da fuck's dat mean?"

"You don't recognize me? Remember that girl getting beat down by her boyfriend in that alley a few months ago? Then you and the other guy stopped him?" She waved at me.

_"Get your hands off me!" echoed through the alley. Connor and me were immediately on edge. We made our way quietly down an alley, and saw a thick looking man, gripping a red headed girl by the wrist. She was pulling away and had tears in her eyes._

_"'Ow dare you talk to me like that! Some one ought to teach you to 'ave some respect!" the thick man growled, his British brogue shocking us. This was an Irish neighborhood after all. Connor and me approached the couple._

_"Doesn't seem like she wants ta be talkin ta ye mate." I spat. The girl smiled at us gratefully. The man, not so much. He glared at us._

_"What do you care?" he asked. "This doesn't concern you. If I want to do this-" he raised his hand and smacked the girl._

_He didn't have time to finish his sentence, me and Connor attacked him, throwing him to the ground. The girl was pushed back a few steps, and she just stared at us. Connor met her gaze._

_"Lass, if I were ye, I'd run." he smiled at her._

"Huh, ye had red hair den."

"Yeah, I like to change that." She answered. "Not a lot of people would do what you and your friend did, you did something very, very good. The world needs more people like you, so I know that God won't let the few like you hurt alone. You'll have him Paddy. I promise."

I stared at Angel a few minutes more before I finally stood up. "Thank ye Angel, who knows, ye may just be right."

"I am right." She winked at me. "Get home safe Murphy."

"I will," I answered. "But first, I'm going ta take yer advice."

"What advice?"

I only lit another cigarette, and stumbled out of the bar.

.:.

_Bring him back to me God, I prayed fervently in the small hospital chapel. Bring my brother back. _

_I finally crossed myself, and leaned back in the pew, facing the crucifix. Blaine sat next to me, she was staring intently at Christ. "Hey Murphy?"_

"_Aye?"_

"_You believe in Heaven right?"_

"_Aye, a'course I do."_

"_So you believe in Hell too."_

"_Can't have one without da other."_

"_Do you think Hell is as bad as people think?" she whispered. I shrugged. _

"_It's supposedly eternal damnation right? I doubt it's fun."_

"_And if you do bad things, you go there?"_

"_Well, ye have ta do really, really bad things. Stealing money from yer Ma's purse hardly counts."_

"_What about murder?" She never took her eyes off the cross. I swallowed hard._

"_What are ye talkin' about?"_

"_Just murder, that's an automatic ticket to Hell, isn't it?"_

"_Aye. I suppose it is." I finally answered. She sighed._

"_I thought as much."_

"_Who'd ye kill lass?" I asked, trying to figure out what she was talking about. She only tugged on her sleeve. _

"_I didn't kill, but I tried."_

"_Talkin' about ye?" I asked. She didn't answer. She just continued to stare up at the cross. "It's not a sin."_

"_How is that not a sin?"_

"_A human in their right mind can't do it. They can't make themselves do it. It's not a sin."_

"_But I didn't do it." her voice cracked a little as she answered. "So does that mean I was in my right mind? Does that make it a sin?"_

"_I-I don't know." I finally admitted. She nodded and leaned foreword a little._

"_Hey Murphy,"_

"_Aye?"_

"_Do you think Heaven would even take me? I'm damaged goods." _

Christ, she was in my head tonight, and nothing I could do would make her leave. I leaned against the door of the church. It was locked for the night, so this was the best I could do. I was taking Angel's advice.

Getting a good cleansing of body, mind and soul.

I gripped my rosary the best I could in my left hand, the worn wood felt almost foreign in that hand, it didn't fit the way it did in my right hand. I had gone through almost two decades of the rosary so far, trading the traditional rosary for my own.

_I'm sorry. _

_I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry_

I had to apologize for everything. For Roc, for Blaine, for Connor, for Tina, for Mika, for Smecker, For Dolly, Duffy and Greenly. For the dead we couldn't save, and for the men we were going to kill. For the pain caused by the Saints, and for the pain we hadn't been able to stop.

Everything.

"Yer a right bastard ye know dat!"

I looked up from my prayer, and saw Connor standing at the bottom of the stairs. I winced.

"Ye don't get ta just fuckin' leave the hospital! Ye don't get to fuckin' walk out and not tell anyone where the fuck you were! Jesus Christ Murph! We thought someone had fuckin' taken ye! Instead, I find ye on da piss on some church steps! Are ye fuckin' retarded!" He was fucking livid. Fists clenched at his side, probably to avoid punching the shit out of me. "How the fuck could ye do that!"

"I'm sorry."

"Yer fuckin' sorry? Dat all ye got? Ye scared da fuckin' hell out of me!"

"I'm fuckin' sorry! Damnnit! I'm so fuckin' sorry!" I growled, leaning off the door.

"Why da hell did ye run off in da first place!"

"I couldn't be in dat fuckin' hospital." I replied. Connor hopped up the stairs, and sat down next to me.

"Why not?"

"Ye fuckin' know why. Da lass was there." I answered. Connor nodded slowly.

"Did it get better?"

"Fuck no. I got chewed out by an racist Angel, who we ended up saving a while back, and she gave me better spiritual advice den I've had in a long while. Den I came here. She's everywhere. She's in me fuckin' head. I want her out."

"Murph-"

"I fuckin' want her gone. I want her back, I want her to be here." I growled and leaned my head against the door. "I want it ta fuckin' stop hurting. I want ta not have to apologize ta her Ma and her Da. They've lost two fuckin' kids man. Two. I want to not feel guilty."

"Murphy, ye didn't kill her-"

"Ye feel as guilty as I do, don't even fuckin' big brother me with dis shit! Don't even pretend ye ain't as sorry as I am. Don't pretend ye don't blame yerself. And don't pretend yer looking at this logically. Don't tell me ye don't feel like cryin' like a fuckin' woman. Ain't just her either. Rocco man, Roc and her, they shouldn't be dead. Roc was as innocent as he could be, given the situation. Blaine even more so. So what the fuck do ye propose I do here, almighty older brother." I spat.

I hurt him, I could tell, for a millisecond, it flashed across his face, but because he was much better at the big brother thing, he let it go. "She's better now Murphy. Much better."

_Do you think Heaven would even take me? I'm damaged goods. _

"God, I fuckin' hope so." I mumbled. Connor threw his arm around me, and I leaned into him. Contact. I needed the contact.

I did hope he was right, I hope God welcomed Blaine in with open arms, and gave her a pat on the back. She was a good lass. A very good lass. She was just so sick, so fucking diluted in her point of view. She just wanted to make everyone else's pain go away.

At what cost though? She was dead, and she didn't deserve to be. Did she hate us for it? No friendship is worth being killed. Not alone, not for something you didn't do. She might hate us for it.

She might blame us. She had every right to blame us. It was her life, and we had thrown it away like it was nothing. We hadn't taken care of our lass. We let the enemy get to close.

The lamb got slaughtered for the wolf's actions.

Connor and I sat on the steps of that church for a long time, each of us on our own train of thought, while at the same time, it was the same train of thought.

We were beaten, broken and used. We had been knocked down, for the second time, with a river of blood to prove the point.

"Connor?" I mumbled.

"Aye?"

"Ye still believe in Heaven right?"

"Aye. A'course I do."

"Connor?"

"Aye?"

"Do ye think we'll ever get to see it?"

Connor's face was unreadable, but his eyes displayed doubt, and hope at the same time. He tightened the arm around my shoulder. The look on his face was the same as my thoughts. _Why should we get too? We don't deserve it_

"I fuckin' hope so man. I really do."

**So, review for the cutest twin brothers ever? :] Thanks!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's note!: So here it is! The final chapter! Now, there's been a lot of Blaine related anger in the reviews, and to that I say "I'm sorry, but that's exactly what I was going for!" But I hope that this helps. I figured that this story should end the same way it started. This was my first piece of work I've shared with others, and I want to thank all of you for your support and favorites and hits and reviews! It really meant a lot that you all would take time out of your day to let me know how I did on my chapters. You all were fantastic inspiration for me, and I thank you, fromt the bottom of my heart. So here it is, the final chapter, and the final goodbye :) I love you all! -Eris**

**Disclaimer!: I still don't own the BDS...shocker!**

Chapter 27: The Final Goodbye

*Blaine*

I didn't go to hell. That was a good sign.

Well, at least, not yet. I wasn't sure where I was going. I had refused to go when I had been called. Not because I was scared of where I was going to end up. After everything I had gone through, being stuck in an eternal hellfire didn't hold as much fear as I had originally expected. After the perpetual cold of Boston, I welcomed the fire. Bring on the heat.

So no, fear was not keeping me fixated to my grave.

It wasn't lack of acceptance either. I was aware that I was dead. My heart stopped beating, my lungs stopped breathing, and my soul left. I am dead. I know that, no worries. I was never one to bullshit myself. Not ever. Dying had been a rather simple process actually. All you have to do is let go. Just take a deep breath, and let go.

Easy as one, two, and three.

But still, my soul refused to leave my headstone. And I subconsciously knew why, sure, but I wondered how long I could hold on before my soul gave up.

All I wanted was a goodbye, and I knew they wouldn't let me down. They just couldn't.

"_Come on kid, can we please leave now?" _The man to my left groaned. I cut my eyes to him.

"_No one's making you stay, why don't you just go?"_ I answered bitingly, petting the cat in my lap. I didn't really know where the cat came from, it had shown up with the man.

The man to my left had been the first one to meet me when I had died. At first, I though he was Jesus, it was the shaggy hair and beard. However, on closer inspection, I realized he looked like a very, very, _very_ burnt out Jesus. A Jesus who looked like he enjoyed his beer and pot a little too much if you catch my drift.

_You can call me the Funny Man_

So far, from what I had been able to gather, the Funny Man was supposed to help me crossover. Well, he was doing a pretty crappy job of it, if you ask me. I mean, I hadn't crossed over had I? He kind of sucked as a motivator. He'd been trying for the last six days to make me move, and I had refused.

He, in return, had refused to leave me alone. So he sat by me through the shock of being dead. Through the sad, and through my own funeral.

Gotta say, I could've gone without seeing that.

My mom and step dad were in the worst shape I had seen them in. Well my mom at least. She was shattered. Completely shattered. I felt horrid, but what was I supposed to do? Come back to life? Ian probably could've shown a little emotion, but what did I expect? He probably saw it as poetic justice for what I did to his little girl.

My real dad was there too. Now, for that I felt terrible. My dad lived in Boston after my parents split, and I hadn't seen him once since I was there. He couldn't face the suicide thing. It scared him, but I didn't really hold it against him. I couldn't face it myself. He did write to me though, and I wrote back, so at least he had those.

And apparently, he had won the fight for my body. I had been buried in Boston. Which, admittedly was not my first choice. I did miss the warm, that would be nice, but I supposed it would be wasted on a skeleton.

Even worse then seeing my parents there, was seeing the Kookoo Kids. Ted and Anna especially. Ted had sat next to his uncle, and he cursed the boys with everything he possibly could. His heart was broken, and I had nothing for him. You're not allowed to talk to the living, the Funny Man had told me that over and over again.

Anna was the hardest, considering how we had ended things.

"_And when they find your body, do you want me to speak at your funeral?"_

"_Actually I hope you do. Let people know who I really was."_

How ironic was that? But then again, it was me. I was irony. At it's highest level.

Tina and Mika had come to my funeral, and I was glad. Mika was my hero, because she had figured out that I hadn't killed myself. I had been terrified that the British boy would've gotten away with it. Terrified.

If I had gone on the books as a suicide, I would've betrayed Ted, Anna and Jimmy. I would've ruined Doc Jay's credibility as a doctor, and I would've broken my parents hearts for real.

Not to mention crush Connor and Murphy under an unbearable amount of guilt from which they'd never escape.

All in all, I had a decent turn out for my funeral, but there were two people there that hadn't shown up.

Asses.

Which brings us back to the fixation to a headstone. I wasn't going to leave, until I got to say goodbye to Connor and Murphy. Who cares what the Funny Man said.

"Look, kid, they won't be able to see you anyways, and what makes you so sure that they'll even show up?"

"Because they'll need to say goodbye too, duh." I rolled my eyes. He growled.

"You are so not worth it."

"Excuse me? You are like the meanest angel I have ever met."

"I'm the only angel you've ever met."

"Point proven." I smirked. "Look as soon as they come by, I'll leave with you. And peacefully too."

"You don't seem like the type to do anything peacefully."

"And you do? You look like Jesus on cocaine!"

"I wouldn't mention that to the big guy." Funny Man chuckled. I raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to heaven?"

"Come one, let's go find out!"

"Not until they come say goodbye."

"Kid look, I know Connor and Murph, and they ain't coming."

I chewed on my lip. I hadn't considered that, was it possible that they truly wouldn't come? I mean, anything is possible I suppose, but that?

I opened my mouth to reply, but was stopped by a string of curse words, in a achingly familiar brogue. I turned towards the Funny Man and stuck out my tongue. He blew out a breath. "Well, I'll be damned."

Oh I hope not. That would mean I was damned too.

And, because fate decided to _finally _throw me a bone, Connor and Murphy came walking up to my grave. And yikes, those two looked terrible.

Both of them had yellowing bruises on their face, and walked with the gait of those in extreme pain, or misery. I was willing to bet on both. Murphy's hands were bandaged up tight, and his eyes looked broken. Connor's eyes were overworked so to speak, like he was overanalyzing everything a few thousand times. They both looked more dead then I had.

"_Whoa."_

"_They can't hear you."_

"_Yeah, I figured."_

The boys sort of stood awkwardly above me and glanced at the stone behind me. Points for my dad. He had gotten a headstone there in record time, probably felt like it was the least he could do. Wasn't anything pretty, just a slab of marble with my name and two dates.

"Tis fuckin' weird." Murphy finally sighed.

"Aye. Tis." Connor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't really know what we're supposed ta fuckin' say."

"Well, we just talk aye? Like she was here?"

"Suppose first thing we should do is apologize." Connor muttered. "Lass, I hope ye know dat we never meant fer something like dis ta happen ta ye. We didn't expect dem ta be able ta get ye. Never even crossed our minds."

"It should've." Murphy whispered. Connor nodded.

"We didn't think it through. Ta be honest, we went into dis whole situation blind. Completely blind. We didn't know shit about this gang. At least, when we started, we had an inside-"

"Good ole' Roc." Murphy smiled.

"Aye, Roc, our fuckin' Funny Man aye?" Connor smiled. I glanced towards my Funny Man. He only smiled and winked.

"We lost him too."

"Aye. We lost our heads, went in half cocked, and not thinking. Cost Roc his life. We vowed not ta get stuck in a situation like dat again. Looks like we aren't very good at keeping promises."

"I should've listened ta ye." Connor sighed. "Ye said so yerself. Ye had a bad feeling about dat hit, and I told ye not ta worry about it. Looks like Blainey was right again."

"Was she ever wrong?"

_No. No I was not. Figures, I have to die for you two to realize that._

"We're so fuckin' sorry Blaine."

I wish I could talk to them. I didn't blame them. I wanted them to know that. I mean, I had been on barrowed time as it were. Everyone has a fate they have to play out. Live is a play, there's big parts and small parts. I was a supporting role. I did exactly what was written out for me.

It was my fate to die at the hands of a gang leader that the Saints of South Boston had pissed off. Granted, it was the last thing I had ever expected to happen, sure, but it was the part I was born to play. I had been a good little puppet.

"We're also sorry about yer good name." Murphy sighed.

"Aye, Smecker really had ta paint quite da picture fer yer Ma and Da apparently." Connor smiled ruefully. "Street kid wasn't it?"

"Aye." Murphy nodded. "Livin' at some halfway house."

"Farthest thing from da truth. Fuckin' halfway house."

_Halfway house probably would've been cleaner…._

"But, it did give Smecker a good excuse as to why he was able ta give them all of yer stuff. Fuck, dat was hard."

"Aye. But yer parents got yer belongings…well, most of them. Me and Murphy wanted something ta remember ye by."

"Aye. Dat we did. We took da only things we couldn't imagine not being in da flat."

"Bet ye can guess what we took."

_If you idiots do anything to that bear, I'll kill you. Or if you screw with my iPod…_

"We needed something ta remind us of ye Blainey. Something other den yer headstone."

Murphy reached into his jacket pocket with his left hand, wincing the whole time, and he pulled out an old looking blue rosary. He grinned at it. "Me favorite cousin, Fiona, she gave dis ta me before I left fer America. She was convinced dat I was headed for hellfire. So she gave this to me fer da trip. I have one though, so I'm givin' this one ta ye. Mostly because I'm pretty sure it'll piss ye off. And seein as ye compared church ta Wal Mart. Yer gonna need all da help ye can get."

_Oh you're right, it's pissing me off. Come on dude, you shove religion down my throat when I can't talk back? Not cool Murphy. Not cool at all._

Murphy laid the rosary on the top of my headstone and took a deep breath. "Fuck I need a smoke." He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry lass. I truly am. I wanted ta thank ye, for being there fer me when I needed someone. Ye helped me more den ye know. And I promise Blaine, we'll get dat motherfucker for ye. I swear on me own soul dat we'll wipe out dat entire gang. Evil bastards, the lot of them." Murphy knelt down and pressed his lips against the stone. "Goodbye lass. I'll miss ye. Ye were da little sister me and Connor never really wanted." He gave a half hearted smile. "I love ye. And ye know what? God'll take ye. I promise."

I smiled then, surprised he even remembered that conversation. It was one of the first ones we had ever had. And yet, he remembered.

He walked back, and turned. I could see he was shaking, and I wished then that I could give him a hug. Oh God, poor Murphy.

"Ye comin?" Murphy asked his brother.

"Be dere in a second." Connor answered as Murphy walked away. Once he was alone, Connor smiled. "I fuckin' owe ye lass, ye have no idea. First off, I need ta give ye dis." he pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill and placed it under the rosary. "Dat, is because ye won da bet. Murph and Tina are well on dere way ta being a couple. Against all fuckin' odds." He gave his infamous shit eating grin. "I had ta wait until I was alone ta tell ye dat, because he's still denyin' dat he's back wit Tina, but I know better."

_Hot damn, I rock. Hardcore. Good for Murphy, he deserves to be happy._

"I suppose I should put another five on dere, because I knew ye were hintin' at making a bet concerning me and Mika."

_Actually, I made that bet with Murphy…and I'm expecting him to pay up at some point too._

"It's looking pretty good." He smiled. "She had her own 'Comin' ta Jesus' as it were. Ye made quite an impression on her, ta be honest. Well, yer, uh, passin', did."

_Death Connor. You can say it, I know you can. It's not that hard._

"Impacted da lot of us really." He ran a hand through his hair again. "Reminded me why I do dis in da first place." He smiled. "I wanted ta thank ye. For a whole mess of things. Firstly, thank ye fer taking care of me idiot brother when I couldn't. He needed someone ta lean on, and ye let him. Tis a rarity, fer dat kind of compassion these days, so thank ye fer helping him, den both of us. We asked a fuckin' lot of ye, and ye didn't disappoint once. It couldn't have been easy, but ye stuck in dere wit us."

_You two are family. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat._

"And like me brother said, we'll take down da man who did this ta ye. I swear on it. They won't fuckin' get away with this. Not after everything they've done ta my family. Dat entire syndicate will fall. Too fuckin' dangerous ta live. Public menace."

_Don't do it. No more revenge, it'll only make it worse. You're even now, the British boy will leave you alone._

"But, we can't do much about it right now. Murphy and me, we're not in da best shape. We might need a little…recovery time, if ye will. But we won't forget ye lass. Couldn't even if we tried. I hope ye can be happy now. Ye deserve ta be happy."

_So do you two. You need a life that isn't centered around death. Try living you two. For me?_

"I should probably go back ta Murphy now." Connor knelt down and kissed the marble too. "I fuckin' love ye lass. I hope ye know dat. And we're sorry we didn't go ta yer funeral…we just…we tried, we just couldn't…" He smiled ruefully. "We couldn't. Dat's da best way I can explain it. No hard feelings?"

_I will hold a grudge for the rest of my existence. _

"I love ye Blaine. I hope ye can remember dat, above everything else." Connor stood up then and walked the same directions his brother had. "Goodbye Blaine."

I smiled, genuinely, for the first time since I had died. They were going to be okay.

"So, you ready to go now?" Rocco asked me. I wiped away two tears from my face, I hadn't even realized they were there.

"Yeah, I think it's about time I finally relieved Earth of my presence, don't you?"

"I've only been saying that for the last six days, but noooooooooooooo, no one ever listens to the Funny Man."

"Sounds like ignoring you is an age old tradition, and I'm never one to break tradition." I smirked.

"I'm going to have my hands full with you, aren't I?"

"Damn straight."

I watched my boys disappear towards the entrance of the graveyard, and I could almost see them for what they really were. They were Saints, protectors of the innocent, the killers of killers. Blah blah blah. But more then that, they were good men. They truly were.

They were the guys who would hold the door open for someone else. The guys who are willing to stop indifference. They're the guys who you'd want backing you up in any situation. Extraordinary men. Superheroes. And I had been lucky enough to be thrown into their lives.

"Maybe this God guy knows what he's doing after all."

"You'd be surprised." Rocco smiled. "Now come with me would you? I think it's about time we moved on."

"Sounds good to me." I was ready to rest now.

I had played my part, done my job, and I was finally free.

Free of the pain, the struggle, the fight and the guilt. I was more alive in death then I had ever been living.

Ironic, isn't it?

*Boss*

Hunter walked up to the grave with a lead ball in the pit of his stomach. This wasn't his first grave, and it certainly wasn't the first person he had put in a grave, but then again, that wasn't just any body underneath either. It was a woman, who hadn't wronged him in any way.

He placed a single rose on the top of her headstone, which he noted also held a rosary, and a five dollar bill. Looks like he had just missed her other visitors.

This wasn't unusual for him. Actually, it was common practice for him to visit the graves of people he had killed. Respect. Tyson had taught him respect, especially for the lives he had personally taken. After all, it was true that he had killed a man, however justified or unjustified that killing had been.

The grave visiting had always been treated with reverence, almost a calming experience for him. He settled his devils here. The guilt was usually left at a graveside. And he prayed that it would be the same this time.

The girl had been used to prove a point, and brutally. He had heard from one of his many 'friends' that her death hadn't been ruled a suicide. He was alright with that. It wasn't suicide by any means, and she still died. It still hurt the saints, and his prints were not on that knife. He was safe.

Well, he would be safe long enough to get out of the country, that much was sure.

The extensive operation he'd been working on for years, that had been set up to the best it would be in the East Coast. Boston had been the final nail in that coffin so to speak. Boston and their Saints. He had taken care of both of those dilemmas, and now he wanted to go home.

England's operation was already up and running, that was the problem. And the Richardson syndicate, well they were at an all time high. If they were going to expand, they needed to do so now. He wasn't sure how the expansion was going to go in his next destination.

The capital should be easy, a city is a city. However, the rural areas might be a little more difficult to get to, but he had to try. His pride as an Englishman was at stake there. And he had to make Oliver Cromwell proud, the man was a national hero to the Brits, and if he was going to take the same country Cromwell had by storm, then he'd better do a damn good job of it.

He would too. Because, like the Saints, he was a survivor. He was willing to do anything to live. But, unlike the Saints, he didn't have anything weighing him down. Those two had people they loved. Hunter? Hunter had no one. All he had now was his pride.

The worst enemy you can have is the one who has nothing to lose.

Although the pain was still shattering to him now, he was comforted by the fact that his fate, and the fate of the Saints would someday intersect once more. And when that finally happened, he would be the one with nothing to lose, therefore, making him the stronger opponent.

"My dear, I am terribly sorry about what 'appened to you." He whispered to the air. "You 'ave my deepest apologies. I understand it wasn't your choice to be pulled into my little game. But like any player knows, if your opponent leaves 'is queen open, you 'ave to take 'er."

He bowed his head and sent a quick prayer up for the girl, and her fate once her soul had left the earth, then he turned toward the entrance of the graveyard, his thought on the future.

Yes, they would meet again someday.

He found, with a smile on his face, that he almost couldn't wait for it.

**So, for the last time, I sit here and beg you for reviews :) will you do it? for me? :DDD **


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